#char status: taken

[wol-fica]

shamelessly requesting for a smut with any JO char that gives g!p r head when r is asleep 👉🏻👈🏻👉🏻👈🏻

based on this:

https://twitter.com/_maiqo/status/1661162706739638272?s=20

summary - ^ (in the link)

an - that comic did something to me…

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Tara hummed softly to herself, throwing her dirty laundry in the washing machine. She had just finished taking a shower after her nap and her workout, and was now planning on organizing and cleaning the apartment after a spurt of energy came to her.

She turned on the machine, before opening the dryer to get out the fresh load she did earlier. The clothing was warm on her finger tips, sending a pleasant chill down her spine from the heat.

After settling the laundry basket on her hip, she strolled out of the scullery to head to the bedroom to fold the clothes. Tara was aware of you sleeping, you had told her you were probably going to take a nap after school, which is why she found you passed out on your shared bed.

She smiled at the sight, gazing at your sleeping figure for a moment. You stirred slightly, a soft mewl passing through your lips as you rolled onto you back. Tara cooed at you, taking out her phone to snap a picture before going into your shared closet to silently put away her clothes.

She slid an airpod into her ear while she worked, quietly singing and dancing along while she folded her garments. Her music was loud, but not loud enough to drown out the noises you started to create. At first she thought you were just dreaming, being that you were huffing and mumbling, but that soon turned into pathetic sounding whimpers and whines that had her concerned.

So she came out of the closet, her eyes finding your body shifting uncomfortably in your sleep. She frowned, coming around the bed in thoughts of waking you up until she saw what was making you so squirmy.

There, under the conceal of your slightly tight grey sweatpants, was a large bulge. Tara’s eyes widened, her gaze focused on the rather huge tent in your pants. She glanced at your exposed stomach, her pupils expanding at the flex of your abs and the line of dark hair leading into your sweats.

“Oh sweetie…” She mumbled, kicking off her shoes and shorts before climbing onto the bed with you.

She knew you needed your sleep, the nap was well awaited and very much useful for you tomorrow, so she planned on making sure you stayed that way.

She watched you inhale deeply, before her hands grabbed the hem of your sweats and pulled. Your cock spring free, standing at a tall 7 1/2 inches, with its veins throbbing and a small amount of precum leaking at the tip. You were big, the biggest Tara had ever seen and taken, but she wasn’t complaining in the slightest.

Her mouth watered as she pushed your legs up and apart, so they were bent at the knee and spread open for her. She got a good view of your balls, large and twitching as you dreamt about god knows what. She squeezed them slightly, before diving in with a broad lick up your shaft.

You groaned, hips bucking up slightly at the feeling. Her tongue reached your tip, catching the precum that was leaking out. She licked her lips, savoring the sweet taste of you before opening her mouth to take your tip in.

Her lips wrapped around you, tongue expertly licking and massage your sensitive top. You whined above, your thighs twitching in Tara’s grasp. She hummed in response, taking more inches into her mouth before you were sat snugly in the back of her throat.

“Mmph!” You moaned, one of your hands sliding down into her hair, “T-Tara!”

Her eyes snapped up to you, seeing your head thrown back into the pillow and your lips parted in a guttural moan. She smiled around your length, her tongue sliding up and down your shaft that sat in her throat.

Tara loved having you like this, enjoying the control she has over you. It was different from when you were buried in her pussy, that feeling was more intoxicating and pleasurable, while sucking you off was more satisfying and relaxed. She knew she was giving you the pleasure you needed, and she knew you very much loved it as getting a blowjob was one of your favorite things.

“Baby…” You whined, hips bucking up, “Please…deep throat me…”

She blushed at your forwardness but complied, opening her jaw wider to take the rest of you in. Soon, her nose bumped against your abdomen, the head of your cock nestled deep in the back of her throat.

She gagged around you, taking a long inhale through her nose before licking and sucking around your member. You cried out her name, both hands now in her hair to try to get her even closer. Slurping noises could be heard throughout the bedroom, mixed in with Tara’s muffled moans of satisfaction.

The knot tightened, a familiar feeling growing until it snapped abruptly. You came with a cry of her name, your cum shooting straight into her stomach. She swallowed greedily, throat bobbing with each suck.

“F-fuck…okay okay…” You pulled on her hair, trying to get her off due to overstimulation.

She giggled, pecking your sensitive tip before crawling up to sit on your abdomen. Her hands cupped your face, leaning down to kiss you passionately.

“That was extremely spontaneous.” You mumbled against her lips, feeling yourself harden when her ass bumped against your cock.

“Mmm, and you should let me spontaneously ride you.” Tara suggested, grabbing the hem of her shirt to pull it over her head.

She reached behind her to unclasp her bra, letting the garment fall and tossing it somewhere behind her. Her breasts spilled free, round and plump and waiting to be sucked on.

“Let me sit up.” You murmured, moving to do so while Tara got your own shirt off of you.

“God…your abs are sexy as fuck.” She observed, running her hands along your muscles, “So toned…”

You chuckled, pulling her hips up and back so your tip could run through her folds. She hissed at the feeling, pushing your hands away so she could have control. You let her, watching with blown pupils as she slowly lowered herself onto you.

She let out a hefty moan, her face scrunched at the feeling of you being so deep. Her walls pulsed around you, warm and velvety. Soon, her hips began to rock back and forth, creating an easy rhythm for her to follow.

Tara shuttered, moaning your name freely as she worked. Your hands found solace on her waist, kneading and pushing her as you pleased. You encouraged her, pulling her up and slamming her back down on your length to suggest a proper bounce.

She complied, adjusting herself before beginning to bounce up and down on your cock. The sight of your penis appearing and then disappearing back into her had you feeling like you were on cloud nine. With each slam of her hips, a large bulge appeared in her stomach from the sheer deepness that you achieved.

She kept going, resting her hands on your chest to give herself leverage. Her tanned skin had a sheet of sweat on it, creating a glossy look for her. Her hips grinded down into yours, causing you both to moan at the feeling.

“Damn babe….you look so good in my lap.” You praised, squeezing the fat of her ass, “So pretty and perfect.”

Tara moaned in response, rocking herself harder on top of you. She was chasing her high, clearly seeking the satisfaction of cumming. Your patient was wearing thin, and soon broke when her pace slowed slightly.

So you grabbed her by her hips, forcing her down onto your thickness before flipping you both over on the bed. Your hips pulled back before slamming into her, pounding away at a fast pace that had her losing her breath with each thrust.

Your head dipped down, mouth finding solace with sucking her nipple. Her hands clawed at you, your name being screamed as her walls clamped down tightly. She came with a loud cry, her back arching prettily while a gush of wetness covered your penis.

That didn’t stop you though, and you brought her straight into another orgasm as you finally found yours. Your hips drilled into her until you pushed yourself as deep as you could go, pumping and humping pathetically against her while you came.

“Fuck.” You breathed, letting Tara run her fingers through your hair, “That was…I…”

“Shhh.” She murmured, kissing your temple and pulling your face into her neck, “You still need that nap.”

“While I’m still inside of you?” You questioned, sleep crowding your senses as she scratched your scalp.

“Just go back to napping.” She cooed, teasingly squeezing you, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You purred, giving her a sudden pump of your hips that made her squeal in surprise, before pushing her legs up onto your shoulders and pounding yourself back into her.

“Screw napping, I wanna fuck you.” You whispered into her ear while she screamed your name.

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ye

#tara #carpenter #tara carpenter x r #tara carpenter smut #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter imagine #tara carpenter scream

[eldritch-spouse]

[Part 8 of Gifted. Fem reader.]

Previous poll winner: Give yourself to Krulu (70.1%)

TW: Strong cultish themes; Macro/micro; Mindbreak; Squirting.

⋆✩ You've reached the end of the run ✩⋆

It's not much of a choice, is it?

If you wanted the easy way out, you could have taken it at several instances by now. Picked someone who was likely to bludgeon you, get on everyone's nerves... You're sure you could have gotten killed in many situations. And perhaps even in a less traumatic way- At the hands of a sick monster, rather than the deity dwelling in this rotpit.

But you've lived this far, survived the menaces who got their grimy hands on you. Only to choose death now? No. No, that's hardly admissible.

You're going to buck till your last dying breath here. Or at least try to.

Summoning strength you don't have, unable to meet the god-entity's eyes, it takes far too long before you can croak out a response.

" I... Offer myself to you. "

The finality of your own words hits you like a train. This is definitely not the type of being that'll let you walk back on your decision, so you've laid down the foundations for your brand new future with that statement alone.

Whatever giving yourself to Krulu implies, you have just signed up for it, and now you'll deal with whatever comes forth. It was your choice. It was the fate you wrote, at least some solace will come from that reminder.

The charred giant squints at you, long and hard. You're not sure what he hopes to gleam behind your eyes. They say eyes are the window to the soul, maybe there's some actual merit to that, aside from mere romanticism and poetic frivolity. Does he hope to find a lie? Deceit? You're sure there's nothing to show but fear, resignation, confusion. Defeat.

" A wise answer. "

Is it really? You'd argue dying would be saner. But you've abandoned hopes of staying sane, you are now remaining alive out of spite. A stubborn bull's desire to have its way even as a torero stabs it time and time again. And the crowd cheers, hoping you'll fall.

When all points of contact are severed between you two and an oppressive silence settles easily, there's no clue as to what your next move should be, so you stand like a statue, risking only chaste glances at their figure.

That's... That's it? It can't be.

" It seems I will have to teach you everything. " The entity spits. " Just as I did with my vessel. I expect you to come out of this apt for service. So listen well, for every time I am made to repeat myself, you will suffer. "

Something behind you knocks harshly onto your back, sending you tumbling forward on the altar, hands and knees on enchanted marble. Your entire upper body throbs with pain and you attempt to wheeze some air in and out of your lungs.

The moment an attempt to sit up is made, a rough foot keeps you down. You're well aware he's not putting half of his weight on it.

" Your first lesson is humility. " Krulu begins. " You shall know your place here, profess yourself to me properly. If you fail to do such, I see no reason to spare your ego. "

You're sure he's not talking about your dignity and pride when he says "ego".

How does one "profess themselves" to a god? What does he want you to say? You take a moment to think about Admin's mannerisms. He clearly likes the woman, and she's visibly -Perhaps manically- devoted to him, so whatever she's doing must be adequate. You suppose you ought to copy the purple-clad woman.

A rising rumble from above lets you know time is of the essence. The weight of a clawed foot increases on you, staggeringly powerful as it forces you to curve further the longer you disappoint this entity. Words force themselves out before you can think too hard and risk being compressed into a sheet of paper.

" M- My lord...? I... I belong to you. " That does not sound natural at all. In fact, it's painfully uncomfortable.

A disinterested chuff reaches your ears after a measured pause. " You sound far from appreciative. I am not convinced of your candor. "

A confused, terrified mind runs a mile a second, trying to think of anything more adequate, more appeasing.

" Allow me to help motivate you. "

Within seconds, the strength on your back is so great that it becomes oppressive, hindering your capacity to breathe further. Something creaks within you, awakening a brand new level of desperation as you fight to get the right answer out before he can smash the means to do such with.

" Please! Please my lord- I'll do anything you ask of me, I'm humbled by your mercy- " You choke, trying to get air into your lungs. " I live to serve you! It's my role. I'm yours. Please spare me! "

And, almost mercifully, the weight recedes a good deal. " Better. Albeit sub-par. "

You aim to survive.

Words cannot begin to express the relief you feel at the loss of his strength on your figure, taking a pained, desperate inhale. As if they could decide to steal your breath away at any moment now. Krulu takes several steps back on the altar, and once more, you're not too sure what to do. Is this what it's like for her? Constantly having to guess what to do in order to please this entity? Having no guides or clues, just the whispers of flames and the ticking of an impatient clock counting the seconds to failure... You can't take that. You couldn't take that for an hour, much less a lifetime.

" But that is forgivable. "

He begins, after a long moment leaving you to your thoughts, it seems.

" The most important task your mouth must perform is pleasuring, after all. "

Something bitter curls in your stomach at that declaration. You chose this. It's this or dancing six feet below the ground.

The massive entity squats upon the marbled surface, easily keeping their balance, arms shifting this way and that as they think, eyes poised on you. Although Krulu is an admittedly gnarled creature far from easy on anyone's eyes, you can't help but think that, sometimes, the light bathes his figure in a manner that's almost soothing. An elegance he has no right to hold. His home is in the shadows, you can tell, but somehow, light gravitates towards him too.

What is a being like this doing here? On Earth. Who is he? What is he? How long has he been pacing in this cage of a building, like a hidden mole? Something in you insists he shouldn't be here, and it's not just animal instinct, it's a... Warning, an idea that crawls to the forefront of your mind, as if you've always known it. He wouldn't be here if he didn't have to.

It's not pity that you feel for this immeasurably powerful being, but something like confusion. For a moment, you see a wounded animal limping on the side of the road after trying to hunt something much greater than itself. It's nature, in a way.

He must have caught that image in the reflection of your eyes, because the way his frown deepens into a scalding snarl has you instantly cowering like a leaf in the wind.

" Come. " They begin, causing your heart to leap into your throat. " Your first trial greets you. "

First trial...? Him? Before you have the chance to utter a single thing, Krulu raises a finger.

" Remember this. All you do is only ever permitted. "

Brows furrowing in an attempt to make sense of his riddle-like wording, you ultimately opt not to spend too much time standing around like an idiot and begin awkwardly closing the distance.

On the second step, something unseen and long bats itself onto the floor hard enough to make the ground shake violently. You fall onto your ass with a pained grunt, horrified and further confused.

" Must I open those ears? " He sneers, a pair of long arms crossed over his chest.

" N- No! I'm sorry- " Palms show in what you hope might placate the being. He's not stomping after you at least. That slitted stare is expectant however.

What does he want now? He said for you to approach, so what was so wrong there...?

All you do is only ever permitted.

Ah. Permission.

Doe eyes glance up. " May I walk towards you? " This sounds like a waste of time, frankly. But you have no idea how gods operate. Maybe this is standard etiquette for them.

His glare softens when you guess what to do correctly. " No. "

Uh. Okay.

" You may not. Crawl, like the worm you are. "

Sighing, you swallow the thoughts that second-guess your prior decision and lower to your hands and knees. The trek towards Krulu isn't long, but it manages to feel depressingly unflattering all the same.

You don't feel sexy or confident, just demeaned. This is not a place for confidence. It's hard to tell what his endgame here is.

" Enough. "

Cautious, your hands settle on your knees and you straighten up, awfully close to the large being's groin. Afraid even looking that way can incite their wrath, scared hues cast themselves to the candles again, trying to siphon that warmth.

The scream you let out once something grabs your whole head cuts off into a startled gasp as it's swiveled back to his likeness.

" On this altar, your eyes are to be fixed on me. "

" Y- Yes, lord. "

It seems the sooner you act accordingly, the faster he stops inducing fear on you, grip relenting.

Another standstill unfurls.

The persistent inability to know what to do next causes slight irritation to bud within you, but all he does is wave one hand dismissively, as if to tell you he's getting bored. To get on with it. You really hope that you didn't misinterpret it when he said "trial." You hope and pray you're not going to get ripped in two with these next words.

" May- " The hairs on your back stand and your voice escapes, defying your will, making you sincerely consider running from this creature. Even if it means certain death. " May I service you? " It comes out your mouth murmured, the death rattle of all dignity.

" Yess. "

With a gulp, you chance a glance at what you're working with, thanking the slight amount of illumination currently available. Like many other monsters you know of, at first glance, Krulu's pelvis appears barren of genital attributes. Though, given his size, it would be a bit hard to miss a thin seam of yellow where his slit parts slightly in this squatted position. Or is it just that he's already bothered? By you? No. No, there's no way...

So, a phallus at least. You're hoping. Who knows what the fuck could be in that pouch at this rate. But that's not the only thing you can see from this position. There's... Something moving below. With a confused squint, you tilt your head and note what appears to be two appendages parting ways like petals unfurling. More yellow reveals itself to you, two small and pointed growths curve forward. It takes you a moment to realize that you're looking at his strange, alien vulva.

Two sets. They really weren't kidding when they called this a "trial". Even when you scoot closer, the nervousness must be crawling all over your face, because he makes a comment.

" Explore. I will correct you. "

Far from reassuring. But then again, he must be incapable of such. Or just uncaring, that's more likely. What are you to him, if not the toy you agreed to be?

Well, time to be smart about things.

Time to set aside the mania in your brain telling you that you, a mere human, are going to engage sexually with a being whose oppressive totality you can't even comprehend, and focus on making things easier for you. Chances are that, taking this entity's magnificent size into account, avoiding his slit is a more intelligent choice. You don't need to be a scientist to know whatever's coming out of that will be scarily massive. Unmanageable perhaps. You're not looking forward to being literally impaled in an effort to appease a charred god.

Heading for his lower set is, by far, the safest bet.

Spreading your legs, your stature sinks further, and you can angle yourself to be mostly beneath his foreign pussy. The deity hums at your choice, adjusting their stance slightly, hips canting and arms moving to support his frame as it is ever so slightly presented to you. Behind him, a rough tail sways slowly, like the pendulum of a clock.

Given a much better look now, you realize that his labia are actually prehensile, moving every now and then. His vaginal opening doesn't seem to differ all that much from a human's in structure, at least outwardly, but what catches your attention is what must be his clitori. Two of them! That must make orgasms fun... They're large too, seeming to poke out their hood without difficulty, like thorns on a rose. For a pause, you're just observing him.

" Do you think it wise to test my patience at this moment? " He says in response to your mute awe.

" N-No! Forgive me, lord. " The fear response has kicked in more effectively, though it's not enough to drown your fascination. " ... You're beautiful. "

Krulu genuinely blinks in surprise. Subtle shock is replaced by a frown. A long finger dances under your chin, claw dragging on the fickle flesh, forcing you forward when it hooks upwards. " Pleasure, pet. Not flattery. "

Fair enough. You didn't mean to let that slip so easily.

Unsure how to go about this in a way that will please this being, whose sexual customs are vastly unknown, you figure starting timidly is smarter. Your hands lift, though the sharp glare you're given instantly make them dart to the marbled altar again.

" May-... May I use my hands? " Silence. " Please? "

" You may. "

At least that.

Tracing a slow path on the inside of this thighs, you edge upwards, marveling at the patterns engraved on the left one, scar tissue turned to infinite swirls. By the time you get to the inevitable, you begin by planting a kiss to the bottom of his entrance, trailing sloppy pecks upwards until your nose nudges against those two growths.

He looks down at you with an equally intense glare. Although where once it was filled with genuine irritation, now it's heated in a different way. No less intimidating however. A chuff is heard from above, those clits flex against the air in a motion that you find oddly erotic in spite of never having had contact with his species before.

A timid lap across the length of his opening is all you can manage to delay before focusing on those two. They look sensitive, they must be naturally, you fear too much direct stimulation can overwhelm him like it does some people. But it only takes a few experimental laps and kisses for him to "correct you". A palm drives your head harder against those buds, and he grinds on your face with a flex of long legs.

" I am not made of porcelain, lesser. "

" F- Forgive me- " Pressed against his cunt hard, all you can do is mumble the words onto it, face aflame. He seems to like the vibrations anyway.

" Take them into your mouth. "

Oh. Right, you can probably do that.

Circling one of their clits with a stubby tongue, you slip it into your warmth and, for lack of any guidance, suck on it cautiously. Krulu grunts something you can't interpret out, sighing when you pop it off your mouth to take care of the twin. With enough care, you manage to slip both in, sucking around the appendages, feeling them twitch on your tongue. It doesn't take long before he lets out a moan, this sound that seems to gently grace the walls, both high-pitched and low, as if two had reacted in unison.

It's a little hotter than it should be when he begins rolling against your mouth, almost causing you to bob. They taste of something intense, spreading an odd, nearly numbing tingle on your mouth. Something's popping in your tastebuds, bitter and sweet at different instances. It causes you to salivate excessively, drool trying its best to break down the complex substance you're coming in contact with. It's not an unpleasant flavor, so you find yourself easily suckling at him without a second thought.

The sound of faint dripping eventually breaks your focus.

You might be shamefully getting wet, but that's certainly not you. It takes a slight pause in your motions to incredulously peek down and spot his cunt clenching, empty, dripping slick in generous amounts. You hit the part of you that's drooling with a rolled up newspaper for being so impulsive. Still, when you quickly get back to servicing his clits, a stray hand coats itself in that viscous lubrication and you slip three fingers in without a hint of resistance. Then four. Honestly, you can slide your whole hand in there.

... Maybe you should?

Fuck it.

Your whole hand gets swallowed into Krulu's pussy, and while your eyes are wide in amusement, wondering if you could put your entire forearm in there, you're more focused in trying to find a spot to rub. It can't be that different from your anatomy, can it? You start palping and stroking with a purpose while slurping on him, determined to find that slightly ruggier tissue- Ah! There we are.

The higher arches, grunting, slipping more of your limb into himself with the jarring movement of his hips. It feels obscene, like you're fisting him. " Hhharder-! Harder, you hear me? "

He snarls, and like Hell you're going to risk unintentionally teasing him more. Your whole fucking palm rubs at what you think is his g-spot, feeling warm insides cling to your fingers, pulling you in with the force behind those reflexive pulses. Mesmerizing... This rolling rumble of a noise nearly shakes the walls, so you'll take it as a sign you're doing well. It's not too long before your arm is soaked by sloppy amounts of lubrication and your lips are puffed from sucking fattened clits. Krulu's sour disposition seems to be melting into a more tolerable demeanor, perhaps high on his enjoyment.

Better horny than angry, you guess.

More noises, this time from above, jolt your attention. Sensing movement, your eyes roam up to spot a sight that nearly makes you choke around the god's nubs. One hand coils over a glowing yellowed cock, shaped oddly just like the rest of him, some sections almost looking like rings. It strokes that length avidly, another hand from a different set of arms comes to rub circles around the head. He looks down at you lecherously, appearing to enjoy the show for a couple of heated moments where your gaze is locked on his and the massive being licks at their cruel grin.

When his head starts to tip upwards in the universal language of an approaching peak, Krulu drags you away from him by the neck, holding your pussy drool soaked face while the two of you catch your breath. The tingles on your tongue start to recede. The giant adjusts his position again, and this time, his massive cock faces you with a bob. Without extremities obscuring it, you can truly bask in its design, familiar, but so much better.

Your earlier point still stands however. There's absolutely no way in Heaven or Hell that cock is fitting anywhere inside you. Ever.

" Not as atrocious as I was expecting. But you are far from done, pet. "

Now curved forward, his great stature looms creepily. You don't see the nudge forward coming, nearly falling forth. Krulu makes an amused sort of titter.

" Resume. "

You almost don't want to crawl back towards him, but you know you need to tough through your own choice. He doesn't move a muscle, merely evaluating as you decide to start the same way you did with his cunt, kissing. One peck at the tip of his shaft, slicked by precum, then down the length you'll never take anywhere hopefully. It's admittedly impressive, the weight of it is such so that you require two hands to hold. And even then, you can't encompass his total girth. It's a beast of a cock, excusing the French.

Despite all odds, you try your best to do something that you think might pleasure him, struggling to jerk Krulu off. In fact, the motions are so clumsy that you believe he's purely just getting off on your pathetic attempts. Kitten licks are offered to a sensitive glans you can only suck at partially. The way those burning eyes shut just a bit further tells you he's at least taking enjoyment out of the whole thing.

It's still startling to feel something rough park at your bare pussy however. The rugged texture makes you believe it might be his tail for a second, but with the tapping of what can only be fingertips, you realize he's lowered a hand for you to sate yourself with. It rubs at your folds, spreading your own wetness and pressing knowingly over a bundle of nerves while you sigh around his girth.

" Are you daft? "

His voice isn't soothing at all. It's like... Wood bark in your ears, like branches snapping and scraping asphalt. You can only blink and gulp, befuddled.

" Fuck yourself on my fingers, you witless creature. "

That shouldn't have made your cunt clench the way it did. Though, at this point, you've stopped questioning why you're being aroused by gradually more obscene situations. In fact, enjoying this will make it a lot more bearable.

It's not too easy to multi-task, and given his impressive motor control of so many limbs, he must think your struggles are pitiful. Tentatively, you grind over his fingers, trying to slot them inside your warmth and getting struck by powerful shivers when he curls them helpfully. Thin and long, they slide into your walls with ease and reach places you've never been touched in before. Or maybe it's the way that he touches them. You have no doubt he could lift you by the cunt if he wanted to, and the bizarre thought has a quick moan making it past your lips, starting to roll into the friction with a little more gusto.

Krulu encourages you by hooking his phalange-like fingers, claws kept expertly folded. You feel your legs quaking and flexing in the wake of a god's touch, pleasure dawning upon you at a surprising rate. Although he's far from kind, far from safe, some itch in the back of your mind tells you to give in, to offer this entity your body and mind and all else they may crave of you. Because, somehow, someway, you understand that is your purpose. You understand you're looking at someone you should never defy and always, always seek to please.

He is your real God. And this is your new faith.

This sudden line of thought causes some genuine concern within you, as it's something completely out of left field. Never once have you felt so intensely about something. It must be his doing, it has to be. Ad yet, it feels right. Appropriate. Warming. You're not even aware your mouth is parted in silent bliss until Krulu appears to chuckle at your state.

" You will coat my hand in your effort to please me. And with your release, your role here is forever sealed. "

The hypnotizing finality of his statement is as striking as it is wonderfully arousing to you. Enough so that your heart cartwheels in your ribcage and your pace on his generous hand hastens. Maybe it won't even be so bad, you ponder while slicking his cock like a treat, you'd be protected, you wouldn't have to care about anything anymore. And you could get railed day and night by the monsters who lusted after you tonight, by the rest of them, the ones you can't help but fantasize about.

What would fucking the mimic be like? He deserves it for bringing you inside, for introducing you to your fate properly. And that slime, his kind has always exhibited such strange mating customs, how wild would things get? Oh, wasn't there a robot too? Your poor pussy drools as hard as your mouth does, each throbbing pulse of your walls hypnotically ebbing away your common sense. You're well aware pieces of your sanity have been chipping off like old pottery since the start of your contact with this god, but it doesn't feel as horrific as it should, it doesn't raise alarm or concern in you anymore.

Spiritualism isn't something you're very inclined to, but your mind tells you this is where you should be right now. And with that affirmation, everything seems to calmly slot into place again. Everything is as it should be.

" Y- Yes, my lord. "

Lashes flutter to a close briefly while you do your damndest to try to offer the deity more pleasure, unable to welcome him into your comparatively minuscule mouth. He grows fevered, legs shifting to feed more of himself into your grasp, likely frustrated by his mounting need, or perhaps being rough just for the sake of it. A jut of dark hips has that bright yellow length gliding on the side of your face in a debauched gesture that has you wondering if he could climax by simply grinding on your complexion. Eventually, slick, swift noises reach you, and judging by his moaning pants, you can only guess he's fingering himself to the scene.

Morbid curiosity has you peeking, the rhythmic plunging of equally dark digits into his sopping cunt confirming it. When you look back up, Krulu offers you a salacious rictus before thrusting hard, mean, just to jostle you.

" Lord- Lord Krulu- I'm doing my best, but I... I just can't fit you anywhere. I'm sorry- "

" Is it so? " The giant muses knowingly. " Well lesser, you will have to find a way to make me come somehow. Surprise me. "

Mind racing, you halt your motions on the now static hand between your legs, trying to figure something worth his time. A rotten little image finally surfaces, and you hope your filthy mind won't fail you now, of all times.

" Can... Can you please lower a bit more, Lordship? "

Krulu tilts their head subtly, elegant horns following, though your wish is granted. And so, you quickly scoot to be further beneath him, enough so that his heavy member rests on your front, from abdomen to chest and neck. The weight and warmth of it against your bare skin is a previously unknown sensation that you think you can get accustomed to, hands lifting to try to stimulate him in some manner, even pressing your breasts against him to whatever extent you can.

If he didn't think you were pitiful, he does now- Face flushed and dripping down his fingers, presenting yourself like some inanimate object to rut onto.

" Interesting... " He muses, and you can't be too sure if that's approval or an insult.

For some reason or another, the charred giant plays along, leaning forward to let himself grind against your body, each rock unavoidably powerful and gradually wetting you in his precum, a primitive marking ritual if there ever was one. Each back and forth has your face hotter than a furnace as you try, almost pointlessly, to lick at the end of him whenever it's close enough, oftentimes graced with a sloppy nudge against your cheek and mean-sounding chuckling from above.

Distantly, you wonder if this is what Admin goes through regularly. She's clearly his favorite, maybe this is a daily thing for them. It's easy to understand why her reverence of this being is so genuine and unbreakable. You can't help think that you'd be drawn here anyway, sooner or later.

Nothing matters anymore except doing as you're told, shuddering out moans and trying your best, apparently doing enough to warrant a reward as Krulu begins plunging his digits into you faster and harder than you've ever been fingered before, having tears prick at the corners of your eyes as it feels like he's fucking you himself in spite of being currently held between your breasts and arms. There's no mistaking the growls that dip into snarls low enough to rattle you, felt between every point of contact you have, rippling on your form, only speeding up your own approaching end.

Unable to squirm away from the relentless finger-fucking, it's all too soon before you're taken to the edge and near effortlessly tipped into a raging orgasm. Although it surprises you enough to let out a scream-like cry of ecstasy, you soon realize you're dealing with a god. He could probably kill you from orgasmic bliss alone if he wanted to. And you definitely feel something in your mind short-circuit, vision blurring with each pulse of a throbbing cunt around speedy, thin extremities. You're faintly aware of the fact that you just gushed onto Krulu's hand. Though neither of you are very concerned with that, you only struggle to breathe in the wake of growing overstimulation, arms now limp and body nearly falling back from how tensely it arches.

This feels like more than just an orgasm, if that's even possible.

Your lord detaches himself from your figure entirely, leaving a sweaty, goosebump-covered body to heave and sway, nipples as pert as the still twitching clit between your jelly-like legs. It's increasingly hard to focus on anything but the soft murmuring of the candles and the way light flickers off tapestry, but you register the motion of your head being yanked upwards to face Krulu while he rises to pump himself over you feverishly.

The erotic bucking of his hips into several pairs of lewdly moving hands over his own cock is hypnotizing. You can't help but watch his face keep contorting into different expressions of equally intense pleasure, until, all of a sudden, he makes a sound you can only call a roar. Loud and throaty and self-indulgent, reverberating in the very depths of your soul and rattling your skull with its volume.

The first splatter of cum on your body is jarring, eliciting a startled yelp followed by a heated groan when it's followed by more and more shots, all thick coats of Krulu's enjoyment of you. His approval of a brand new servant. Their seed all but leaves no part of you untouched, wide eyes having to shut themselves so as to not get pelted in the process. You can't help gasping and moaning like an animal at the sensation. Globs cascade down your belly and slide across your entrance. There's little else your boiled mind can do aside from merely pant and remain still like a depraved figurine covered in pearly white wax.

" Welcome to The Clergy's Eye, my present. "

Is the last thing you're able to coherently interpret before your mind starts distorting things again.

In between the following moments, could have been seconds or hours for all you'll ever know, you recall the image of a somewhat concerned and agitated green man with a pumpkin for a head looking you over. He murmured something fogged and unintelligible to your drunken self and seemed to carry you elsewhere in a hurry, much too fast for your muddled thought process and reflexes.

The glow of the elevator hurts your eyes.

The ballerina spins slowly on top of her stage, a soft, cheerful tune ringing across paint-splattered orange walls, the sound of rain softly cascading outside adding a homely element to things.

You sigh, comforted, leaning into Vinnel's gloved motions as he ties pink lace around your neck and forms a ribbon on the back. His gurgled hums fall in tune with the melody and he appears to be genuinely content. He always is when he gets to dress you up, it's become a beloved part of his routine.

" There we are, my pretty poppet! Do a spin for me! " The jester suddenly peels back, twirling in the air.

You stand in the frilled pink and white dress outfit he spent the better part of an hour perfecting, feeling gorgeous, softly painted cheeks rising and creasing the corners of your eyes when you smile for him. Grabbing the hem of your dress, you spin twice and feel warm at his exaggerated reaction.

" Uhuhuhuhu! Showstopping! Brilliant! " Vinnel titters, clapping enthusiastically before landing on the ground of his room to lightly boop you on the nose. " You're ready to head out then, missus. "

" Thank you, Vinnel. " And even though you sound perfectly innocent, when you hug him, one of your hands drifts down to palm at the heart shape on his groin, rewarded with a husky growl.

" Go on now, poppet. It's too early for games, you little slut. " He muses, stepping away to open the main door in his room so the two of you can head out.

Today, Admin requested to have breakfast with you, so you dutifully get on the elevator and head to the restaurant floor, finding the woman already seated in a pristine table, waving you over. Your feet quickly trot you over to her, sitting obediently and greeting your superior.

" Well well, look at our little model today. " She teases.

" Ah, thank you! Vinnel outdid himself. "

" Certainly. This is much more palatable than the bruises he likes to put on you usually. " You have to agree with her here, some spots of your body are still sore where he clawed at days ago.

Grimbly eventually zooms his way to the two of you with a tray containing your breakfast. A variety of pastries deposited on your side while Admin seemed to only want her coffee, always a shade of black so intense that it made it look as if she was drinking a void. The waiter wags his tail and beams at you, placing a sweet kiss to your cheek and cooing at your look before being waved away by the brunette.

" How do you feel about your stay here so far? Correct me if I'm wrong, but you didn't appear to regret your decision. " She sips from the steaming cup.

The answer is almost automatic.

" O-Oh, it's been really nice! Everyone wants me here so much, I... I like all my coworkers, it really feels like home. " You confess, feeling a tad sheepish but standing by your words. " I can't describe how fulfilled I am nowadays. I'm happy when... Everyone's happy. It's hard to explain but I really feel like I've gained- "

" Purpose? "

You pause. Yeah. That's precisely the word. How come she's always so right? " Exactly. "

Admin nods, a tiny smile on small lips. She got whatever response she wanted out of you, it appears.

" I'm glad we see things similarly. " Her eyes unfocus, following the swirl of her bottomless coffee cup as if it calls to her sweetly. " It's... Nice, having a human acquaintance here. " It's said with a hint of shock, as if the revelation surprised even her.

You can't help but preen under the praise, offering the woman one of your palmiers. She declines politely, and it's when you return to staring at your plates that you finally see the little note attached to one of them.

Good morning, love. I'll see you soon, hopefully.

A small series of scribbled hearts circle the message, you know exactly who it's from.

" Santi. "

There's a hum from the brunette in front of you. " Mhm, he paid for those. "

" Aw... That's really sweet of him. " Truly, he's always been a sweetheart, since the very start of all this, however long ago that was. Time is barely a concern for you anymore.

" Sometimes he still gloats about being the first you chose, you know? " She grins for a short second. " I think you inflated his ego forever. "

The knowledge makes you actually burst out laughing for a few hearty second where the sound echoes off the vastly empty restaurant. That's adorable, honestly.

" Oh , he might just become my favorite if he keeps buying me treats like this. " A joke you know, had you said it to the rest of them, an argument would instantly break out.

" Why shouldn't he treat you a little today? " Admin's brow rises, head tilted in that way that almost reminds you of Krulu, when he's more comfortable. Still, she knows something you don't, causing you to blink and sit there like a dumbfounded donkey.

" ... You haven't put it together yet, have you? "

No. No, you haven't.

The chestnut-eyed woman crosses her legs and snickers quietly. A couple of seconds pass where she expects you to make a sudden discovery, but the eureka moment isn't coming any time soon.

Finally, she takes mercy on you with a shake of the head. " It's been a year since you were gifted to us. "

...

A year. Has it been that long already? It felt like a miserable few months, if that much. Everything is just so fast here, it really does feel like yesterday when you were screaming at Hellion and Pebble in the garden.

Has it really been that long since you left everything behind?

Strangely enough, bits and pieces of your life before becoming a part of The Clergy are becoming harder to recall in clear detail, faces blur and places become nameless. You don't know what you used to do for a living, or what your routine is. Where did you even live? It doesn't sound important anymore. It isn't.

You're exactly where you should be.

Suddenly, the seat you're currently on ripples and shifts bizarrely, a vibrating purr-like noise spreading across your legs as the chair appears to grow a discolored grayish set of shackled arms and grasps your stocking-clad thighs with them, something wet and slimy brushes against your ankles. The mimic relishes your startled yelp and only holds onto you harder, tittering at having fooled you efficiently. That goofy bastard.

" Hm, they're going to be all over you today... " She sighs like a disappointed babysitter.

" Get ready. "

#Krulu oc #Vinnel oc #Sybastian oc #terato #monster x reader #monsterfucker #monster smut #terat0philliac #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia #Gifted🎀

[rallamajoop]

Cultic Iconography in Resident Evil Village

As the kind of nerd who loves all the creepy artwork you can find decorating Miranda-shrines around the village (like, just check out that one of the half-skeletal Miranda hovering in the graveyard and just tell me that isn't metal AF), I was on the lookout for the original image assets while poking through the game files. I'm hardly an expert on Catholic or Orthodox iconography (plenty of which is creepy enough just to begin with), but I adore how you can see all those elements being twisted and appropriated by Miranda's cult. You'll find these six pictures plastered all over the village in various combinations.

So you can imagine how thrilled I was to find a whole extra batch of unused artwork in the same set!

Lest you doubt these were all meant to go together, they all hail from the one big compilation file ‒ I've just cropped them out separately for ease of viewing. For all I know, maybe some of these were used somewhere in the game and I just never caught it (and if you have spotted any, please let me know!)

But taken at face value, our unused images consist of one picture of the megamycete, a 10-winged-madonna figure (why limit yourself to just 6?), a side profile of Miranda herself (possibly excluded because it shows off a little too much of her real face?), two images of dead crows, and (strangest of all) a man holding a goat head.

That last pic especially stands out ‒ and not just because I could (and, indeed, now have) legit write you a whole essay on just the significance of the goat's head motif as a protective symbol in the village (seriously, it's everywhere from the Goats of Warding to the symbol on the shield of the Maiden of War statue), so I'm going to be all over any new example. But who the hell is that guy carrying it? No other image centers anyone but Miranda herself as an object of worship. This looks more like someone's taken a generic pic of the likes of St Francis of Assisi hanging out with some animals (it's a theme, you can look it up), then just cut the poor animal off at the neck for added creep factor.

So do we take it that this guy was, at some point, meant to be another key figure in Miranda's cult? Or was generic-saint-with-animal-plus-extra-squick all they were really going for? Was it drawn before the writers made Miranda the cult leader? Or could this even have been intended (as the goats themselves seem to be) as some in-universe, pre-Miranda relic of an earlier era?

Also interesting: he appears to be holding one of those ornate staves you can also see in the fire and skeletal images of Miranda above (and can also find in the field near Luisa's early in the game, before they're all replaced by charred, semi-crucified corpses). Did that symbol predate Miranda too? Fascinating, either way.

Those two crow pictures may be even more intriguing still. I'm sure we all remember that spooky batch of dead and/or hanging crows Ethan discovers at the start of his descent into the village, but thereafter nothing like that is ever seen again. Given that Miranda herself is so closely associated with crows, it's reasonable to wonder if this very-literal murder-of-crows was in fact some act of heresy by an unbeliever, deliberately hidden out in the woods.

But if images of dead crows ‒ including one hung in the very same position ‒ were at some point intended to appear alongside other images of Miranda-veneration, then presumably veneration was always the intent for those dead crows out in the woods. Suffering is, of course, a key part of the stories of so many saints. And perhaps crows are sacred only in the same way that the goats are: ideal candidates for ritual sacrifice.

Much as I love all the concept art you can already unlock with the game, I'd pay good money for a proper artbook going into all this kind of design work. There's clearly so much more that went into the concept art stages of this game that I'd love to hear more about.

And while we're at it, here's a nice big version of the standard winged-fetus symbol too:

#Resident Evil Village #Resident Evil #RE assets #Mother Miranda #Miranda's cult #unused assets #meta

[mayullla]

Title: Virtual World Genshin

Character(s): Multiple Characters (Genshin Impact)

Summary: Sagau; Placing a device on your head, you lay down on your bed and entered a virtual world. Hanging out with npcs and teaming up with them to fight your missions or theirs. Well, maybe you were wrong about them being npcs?

Note: This is inspired by sword art online kinda? I thought of VR at first but I could not really make it interesting enough for myself to write then I thought the chars in sword art online got trapped in a virtual world...

Warnings/tags: Gn!reader, yandere themes, cultish, sagau, kidnapping (technically? you will be taken from your world), can be seen as platonic or romantic but the kids (Diona, Klee, Qiqi) are just platonic and nothing more.

Genshin is an interesting game, you thought to yourself yet whined when you remembered how much money you spend on this one game. It was expensive.

Placing the headset on your head, you lay down on your bed and logged into the game.

You felt like you were floating on air as you watched the world load in, first the terrain letting you stand on it, then the trees and buildings far and near that looked far too realistic sometimes when you watched all the small details load in.

The smell of glazelilies and delicious food and the sound of crowds, people talking to each other you can hear them as they talk about their day or how they try to haggle the price down in the shops.

"Ahh, you are back! How are you? Gouba missed you!" Xinagling smiled at you when you entered the restaurant, the smell of spice and the heat radiating of the stove... too real.

"Hey, Xiangling."

The game is simple enough more often than not you are just helping the traveler of your choosing either Lumine or Aether find their other sibling. (The sibling that you didn't choose.) You were like Paimon in a way, that you would be in their life when they need you.

How you would see a notification screen suddenly pop right in front of your face telling you to help the traveler and Paimon in their own missions. The archon quest and all but unlike Paimon you can leave the team whenever you want.

Able to roam free and do whatever you want. This was your own world and your world alone.

The game had co-op too, sending you to another world specific for that (always crowded with people) but when it came to your own world it was you and the npcs only.

You are just you here with the weapon and element you picked at the beginning of the game. Unable to change too much of your features except for the color of your hair or maybe a few tattoos.

Instead of the traveler who too focused on finding their other half, you have dailies and resin for yourself. Building your weapons, artifacts, talents and such. (gifts for the npcs is also another things that you often spent your mora on)

The daily missions are a mix, some designed so that you could do them by yourself while the other which usually involves a lot of fighting would involve asking certain characters to help you out.

It was fun really when you got Kaeya and Diluc who you met at the angel share to go with you to clear out the hilichurl camp.

"Oh, it seems that you have gotten a lot stronger than before Diluc. Could it be because of our lovely little traveler here?"

"Hmph."

Or maybe helping out Yoimiya and Thoma in protecting the hot air balloon goods from monsters.

"Thoma! Get that box that fell off from the ballon! Me and ____ will deal with the hilichurls!"

"On it, Yoimiya!"

Cleaning the anemo archon statues with Barbara or Venti is also fun.

But really the best is the Archon quests or World quests, this one is more specific when it comes to teaming with others. Sometimes would team up with one character only, sometimes with three but not over. The four of you work hard together to figure out puzzles, travel new terrain, steal or help others.

The more personal missions are usually nerve-racking more often than not seeing others' lives play out for a certain character and whatnot. And all you can do is be by their side.

You will morn with those characters their lost, you help them find what they are searching for, overjoyed when the other is happy. You are particularly close with the traveler seeing as they are the main characters in the story.

But in the end, this was just but a game, this isn't reality but a dream, virtual reality, and when you wake up from it you have to face reality.

It is hard at times when you have to log out when you were talking to one of the many characters. Telling them that you gotta turn in for the day, and that you need sleep. Them just smiling as the two of you say goodbye.

They never understood that this was a game you thought, after all you watched others play the game managing to get a video telling a character that they were nothing more than a game, codes and pixels.

Yet the characters never acknowledge that they were, looking at the player funnily as if they were just joking around or have gone crazy.

Walking around the game one time you wondered how the devs were able to make such a beautiful game. Again everything all looked so realistic the characters' emotions, thoughts, troubles and all that you just can't believe this was a dream or even a digital world!

When you got hit in-game you could feel the pain the hilichurl gave you, it was a little less painful than real life but the fact that you could feel surprised you the first time you got hit. What's more when you watched other characters get a heavy hit... you wondered if they too feel pain, when you watched Diona too panic to use her burst to heal Rosaria who was on the grass... hurt.

When you rested in the grass you could feel the pointy tips of it lightly tickling you and when you ate their food, everything tasted delicious, did they too also taste how delicious the food was? Sometimes you wished to believe so when they ate with you complimenting the food that you cook at camp that day.

The kind npcs who greeted you as a hero or sidekick with the traveler you knew why many in your world fall so far into the game wanting this world to be their reality far more than their own. Yet you could not help to also cherish this a little sometimes.

Sometimes.

You would be the same, but you understood that this was a dream and that this wasn't real but all just a game. Because in the end when you wake up the pain you felt in-game from getting hit by an arrow was suddenly gone, and the food that you ate with the characters did not fill your stomach. It is small things like that bring you back to reality and help you understand that all this was just a game.

Sometimes it is hard sometimes it is not but you learn how to separate reality vs game here.

How disappointing.

It was often when Yunjin and Xinyan would try to invite you to a show or two. Asking you to stay for a while longer when you have to leave soon.

"You must see this amazing show of ours! Yunjin helped me so much with this new song, you just gotta listen."

"Could you just stay for an hour, please?"

How the children would give you those pitiful eyes that made your heart pull when they ask you to play a little more.

"Klee wanted to play with you a little more... Are you sure you won't play with me anymore?"

"Qiqi wanted to watch the flinches with you..."

"I wanted to show you this new drink... not that I made it just for you... but it would be nice... hmph."

You thought that maybe it was because you are someone who played a hero that they adore you so much. Because of all the missions, they thought of you as a close friend.

It was nice when you, Diluc, Kaeya and Roasaria are together having a bit of banter whenever you got to the angel's share.

"You should drink a little more, it would only be a waste after coming all this way."

"They would like grape juice more, Kaeya. Too much drinking is also bad for you."

"Leave them alone you two."

Ninguang would tell you about her plans, never in full detail, but every so often she would slip a thing or two to you all the while Beidou and Kazuha would barge into the jade chamber (mostly Beidou) to play with you and Ninguang.

"So that is what I was planni-"

"Yo! I heard that you guys were together so I thought of dropping to the jade chamber to say hello!"

"Seriously Beidou, have a little sense."

Zhongli would often tell you stories of his own. Suspiciously stories that the internet never heard about when you look it up, made you wonder if there were hidden missions that you by mistake completed. Those stories are often the reason why you stay in-game a little longer, just to hear everything because you weren't sure you will be hearing them again.

"Have I told you about this?"

Childe would drag you together with him, telling you that you and he were comrades and that you and he must stick together!

"Since you are my comrade, you better watch my back alright."

Ayato and Ayaka would often invite you to the Kamisato home telling you that you stay for a while.

"You haven't been to the Kamisato home for a while, Ayaka misses you. Come and rest there for today."

"Ah! You are here, I am so glad to see you again."

Somehow just somehow Itto gets into more fights and trouble than necessary or even normal when you are around that you must stay a little longer to help Kuki Shinobu fix things up.

"Thanks without you I am not sure what to do with this guy and his group sometimes."

"Oh come on Shinobu! You love me, and so do you!"

When did this start?

There was always something that made you stay a little longer, there was always someone accompanying you where ever you go.

Sometimes you wondered if it was timed... you remembered that when you first started playing the game you were mostly alone if not with the traveler and Paimon searching and fighting monsters alone for their loot, finding beautiful sceneries as you traveled and marking them off your map.

Now you don't even have that moment of silence, as someone is always there with you. Don't get it wrong... you liked being with them, they are your friends in some form of way... complicated... and you would never say no when all they wish was a little bit of your time but also fight alongside you.

But you can't shake that feeling that when you look at their smiles there was a hint of desperation. That they were just clinging to you as if you are just going to disappear at a moment's notice.

When you promised Albedo, Ei and more characters that you will come back after taking a small break for yourself, some alone time. How they hold your hand or arm so tightly as if afraid only to reluctantly release them, smiling as they said goodbye.

You will come back...

What were you supposed to do when suddenly you aren't able to log out of the game.

That your body was stuck unable to wake up, as you tried and tried to leave. When you begged the system to let you out yet there was no answer, no notification just errors and errors which every button you picked to get out.

You didn't see them come close, surprising you when you suddenly heard their voice asking you if you were okay. Their words of worry you didn't trust when you saw the satisfaction in their eyes, the hesitance in them gone as they bring you into a hug clinging to you telling you that it was alright.

You belong to their world.

#genshin #genshin impact #sagau #genshin sagau #self aware au #genshin cult au #genshin yandere #tw yandere #platonic yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios #genshin self aware #genshin x you #childe #kaeya #diluc

[spiritualviolation]

HEADCANON FREE SPACE - GRIAN

from the response to this post

hi hello!! this post is a free space for people to come by and share their headcanons about a specific mcyt character, and this post is for grian!

grian is like. one of those chars that are just headcanon central, so i thought it be appropriate to start with him

not-exactly-rules but some guidelines + my own headcanons under the cut!

- GO ABSOLUTELY NUTS!! share as MANY as you like, i literally don’t mind if you’re going to make a ten page essay about your headcanons. just go wild, just as long as it sticks to the character of this post! bc if it i do multiple characters on one post it might get overwhelming and messy

- you can either do it in the tags or you can just reblog and add to this, i don’t mind as long as it’s convenient for you! you can add to other people’s rbs but i do think it would be better if you rb it straight off this post, but that depends on you!!

- if you want to reblog with your design as well so you can explain your hcs, go ahead! i would absolutely love to see how people design the characters individually!!

i will probably make a masterpost for this but for now we’ll start humble, but i’m aiming to release one post per week, but maybe would speed it up if my schedule allows me!

so yea, go wild!

i will probably start with the life series peeps first but i am thinking of maybe doing qsmp peeps as well after!

my grian headcanons cause i wrote a whole thing in my notes app:

- in my hc, the forms of watchers are dream-like and amorphous, basically visual mindfucks in appearance. grian who was fairly new to the watchers still kept his regular human form, but those who have been watchers for a very long time eventually would lose their individual human identity, and is assimilated into the collective that are the watchers. grian, if give or take maybe a century, the same thing would have eventually happened to him.

- his wings, gifted to him when he was ‘taken’, are generally amorphous and shifting, and you can never focus what shape they’re supposed to be (they can give you a headache the longer you try to look at their genuine form), but he can disguise them in any shape he wants (bird wings, dragon wings, etc.) so it doesn’t hurt to look at them.

- grian cut off his association with them just several months after he was taken, joining hermitcraft not long after, estranging themselves from them.

- he can still use his powers (which include astral projection, and etc.), but because of his cut ties they’re significantly weaker than the average watcher. for example, watchers can ‘watch’ over an entire server, but grian can only ‘watch’ one person at a time.

- his reasons for not wanting to be assimilated into the watchers is that he knows what it’s like to have been pushed and forced to take up a role against his will (ahem high school ahem), and it’s hurt him and he won’t want to let it hurt him again. aside from that, he finds that the watchers are extremely boring, considering all they do is observing passively from the sidelines and all that, which is the complete opposite of how grian likes to operate. he finds it extremely restrictive and prevents him from actively participating in things. not wanting to be confined to that, he cut ties with them.

- however he still uses his powers for troublemaking and mischief, and also to help others when they need it. he doesn’t consider himself affiliated with the watchers because he thinks it’s merely some godly title and also because he wouldn’t want anyone to think him differently, so he doesn’t really hide it.

- as he denied his watcher status very early into joining them, he still has the physicality (stamina, energy and such) of a regular human. only his wings are amorphous instead of his entire form since his wings were given to him when he joined them.

- made the life smp as a fun game for his friends, but in my hc, they did a test run before starting 3rd life. it was during that test run when the watchers seized control over the server.

- during 3rd life, he put admin restrictions on himself to remove his wings so he couldn’t fly and it was fair game for the rest.

#hermitcraft #grian #grian fanart #3rd life smp #last life smp #limited life smp #double life smp #trafficblr #pls share around!!

[jackiequick]

Meet more of the family, Miss Stark & The Youngest Barnes | Marvel OC

———

Liv Stark ⌚️

Full name: Olivia Charlotte Stark-Vega

Nicknames: Liv, Vi, Lottie, Lola, Clary, Char, Charlie, Miss Vega, Snark Central

Age range: 5-18

Height: 5’1

Relationship status: Single

Background: American with Peruvian, Polish and Italian descent

Father: Anthony Stark

Godmother: Elizabeth Stark

Godfather: Jason Underwood

Brother & Sister: Rei and Morgan Stark

Step-mom: Pepper Potts

Uncles: James Rhodes, Happy Hogan & rest of The Avengers

Abilities: A bit of geek and hacker due to her love of technology, basic hand to hand combat since she enjoys boxing and her witty personality. She’s young so she hasn’t gotten plenty of skills yet.

Personality: Liv has a smart touch, gentle soul, sweet, charming and easy going. She is a bit of a bitchy girl and stubborn about everything she does. If she wants to do something, she will probably sneak out to get it done. She got a some of anxiety and a nervous twitch (which would grow over the years since Liv is afraid of being alone and in the dark about a lot of things), this creeping fear and sadness that will take over her if not careful.

- However Liv is very accident prone, she’s always getting hurt one way or another, giving everyone an heart attack since the age of 9 since she’s always been a active little girl. So in result she give Tony and something for Rei to roll his eyes about.

- From an young age, she has always been into tech, jewelry and over all. Wanting to build and grow a her own little things, she was a Stark it’s a given! She watched a lot of movies so she got creative with her ideas.

- Random fun fact, one of her favorite movies is 10 Things I Hate About You, just because she likes Kat Stratford’s aesthetic and attitude. But it’s many Action Movies and Rom-Coms that she will watch with Pepper, that she enjoyed. It’s where she gets her inspiration for things.

- She adored the idea staying in the lab, tinkering and cleaning up the inventions that were made. She practically lived in there, staying home to help and learn. It caused never want to leave that house in general, having a bit of mouth on her after hearing the adults always speak their minds (so don’t be surprised this girl start rambling and throws out whatever bullshit that appears in her thoughts), but it allowed her to be a safe within those four walls.

- It didn’t take long for her to start filling up a notebook with designs on how to incorporate technology into fine jewelry (aka The Stark Watch, necklaces to tracking and security measures, bracelets to be use for defense purposes and rings can be transformed into gauntlet). 

- She’s always been bit of business women! Wanting to create products to help people, keeping an eye on things from behind the scenes, represent and model for Stark industries and such. 

- But she was still so young, so her parents and siblings didn’t want her to grow up so soon in the spotlight of it. She’s a kid! And she understood that, it bothered her but she understood why. So she stays hoping her time could come where she can help out the group.

—> Because little did she know that theses little gadgets and gizmos that would be incorporated into the ideas her father and older brother would use as fashion purposes in the future with their own suits. Aka they’re Iron Man suits!

—> I know you may be wondering about her family life, well Liv raised well per say. She had to move around a lot as a child, especially since Tony never wanted the public attention to be on her just yet and her mother wasn’t sure that she would taken care of. It took convincing from Pepper and Jason to let her stay home with them, so everything was fine after that.

Her relationship with her father was an nice one. When it comes to parenting his kids, Tony was a rather dramatic, embarrassingly loud at times, a little cocky and stubborn parent per day, so it’s a bit difficult to get him to calm down and talk softly with him. Tony cares a lot about his children, having Rei and Liv to take care of but he was always busy with the company having to arrive home late, events he had to attend and ending up being tired.

Other than that, he tried to make time for his son and daughter, bringing them to the lab and everywhere he could. Even if he got in trouble afterwards. Tony always tries to inspire his daughter to do what she loves and experience things, be caring, make sure she was alright too and etc. But they make it work!

Ohh, did I forget to mention how annoying and protective Tony can be as a parent? He will take everything very seriously or not serious at all, acting out if something goes wrong and he tends to be questioning his motives. Even blaming himself if something bad were to happen to his family. Tell Tony Stark you have a crush? He sends JARVIS to keep an eye on you. Ask Tony for something like a new backpack for school? He buys you something else.

In his defense, he does everything with so much love (even if he doesn’t always portray it in the best way).

Her relationship with Rei however—you wouldn’t think it but rather wholesome, since she’s the little sister he never exactly wanted. They were completely opposite to one another, he’s grumpy and she’s easygoing, he rather work alone in silence and she rather work with music blasting and etc. But as much as Rei may be annoyed and want to throw his little sister out of the house, deep down he cares about her, even though he didn’t show it to her very often and he’s very protective of her ever since he was a child.

Rei and their father, always trying to keep Liv out of harms way and safe at home. Even if they tend to fail at times.

Since Tony was always busy, Rei tends to be one to look out for Liv and keep her in check, being her personal bodyguard for everything she does. If it was up to him, Rei would wrap his baby sister in bubble wrap and not let her leave the house!!

When they were kids (and even now) Liv would follow Rei wherever he went and wanting to copy him, be like her big brother because he always around the corner with something snarky to say to her and a huge potty mouth (it resulted in her having a huge attitude as well). She will always be the one to encourage Rei’s designs for suits and talk to dad about something.

He talks and she will absolutely love to listen to him (even if 85% of the time she has no idea what he’s talking, cause he’s smarter than her at a lot of things.)

Sometimes you will find Liv in a moody way shutting everyone out of her room and just curled up in a ball, similar to brother and to be honest, it concerns Rei a bit when it happens. But he would probably try to snap her out of it, even not he will let her be in her moody moments. He knows how it is

At the end of the day, no matter how different they were with one another and the paths they choose, they cared in their own way. Even if when they’re public, they act like they don’t know one another.

—> As for her relationship with the Avengers and Young Avengers! Ooof let’s stick to first impressions, shall we?

She met all of them when she just a child, joining Rei and Tony on a simple basis day with the group. She first started watching her father talking with Bruce Banner, and she took a liking to him very much seeing how nice, gentle and reserved he can be. But there an edge to him, that she found to be cool.

As for when she met Rick, it was when him and Rei were chatting. Her first impression of him, to her the young man is that he looked like a old school Disney Channel Star with a nice smile and warmth, with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

So when she saw Bruce, Rick, Rei and Tony all work together in their own separate labs blasting music so loudly..the only thing Vi said, “Oh no, there’s 4 of them!”

When she met Natasha, she just cool and rather chill per say acting like the nonsense agent with a soft side. Romanoff’s daughter on the other hand, she was just curious about her and Vi liked that.

Same thing goes for Clint and his daughter, they were just cool people. She was always amazed with the skills they had, and a part of her always knew that Clint Barton was a family man. And she was right, when they appeared at the Barton’s Barn years later.

Meira and Luna were just so relaxed, gentle and sweet girls. She adored how they acted with their teammates and siblings, especially Meira since she was a little sister just like her. Sweet and snarky.

Ethan was just super chill and suspicious of everything, Rei didn’t like him and carried Vi alway from from very quickly. Cole was just so mischievous, snarky smile and tossing jokes every day, making Vi laugh or snort. But a part of her respected him greatly, cause she heard he was VERY powerful.

Liane, well she didn’t like her right away. She annoyed Olivia very quickly and she sent painful glared toward the girl who tried to make friends with her. After a while she softened toward Ms Felton, but it took a long time cause she saw Rei didn’t like her either.

——

Daphnia Barnes-Wilson 🪫

Full name: Daphnia Ramona Wilson-Barnes 

Nicknames: Daphne, Nia, Daph, DD, Sparky, Daffy, Fifi, Birdie,

Other name while on the run: Davina, Robin

Age range: 7–20

Height: 5’7

Relationship status: Single

Parents: Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson

Background: American with Mexican and Chilean Origin

Aunt: Sarah Wilson

Uncle: Steve Rogers

Sister: Laurie Wilson

Brother: Benjamin Barnes

Abilities: Marksmanship and Acrobatics, having took some gymnastics classes. She’s also a bit of a fast learner so she’s fluent in English, Spanish, Russian, Portuguese and some French.

Personality: Gentle, a little broken due to being let down a lot in life, warm-hearted, clumsy, a bit shy and humorous at times. But if she’s anything like her fathers, she’s stubborn enough, a little self-sacrificing, and willingly to help no matter what.

- Sam and Bucky have been together for a while now, since their chemistry was a challenging one it always hard to settle down and figure out what they want. However a house, family and future for their kids was always one of them.

- They already had Laurie and Benjamin, so they thought two kids was enough as it is. But things took a small turn when they stumble at a orphanage in Brazil for a mission and met this no named little girl who gave both of them the most honest smile.

- Sam has always been one to have a big heart, so wanting a big family was always part of that. So his heart spoke before his words ever could, wanting to adopt her. Bucky Barnes on the other hand was a little hesitant—well more like worried—about the whole thing, he always wanted a little piece of normalcy and he got it with Sam and their kids. But adding a 3rd? That was a lot of responsibility, but he caved as soon as he hung out with the girl.

- To be honest, they saw a bit of themselves in her. So she was adopted when she less than 10 years old and brought into a family of oddly comforting heroes. They named gave her a name and did everything they could to make her feel comfortable. Welcomed.

—> So Davina (or Daphne) as they called her grow up with her parents and siblings. As loved as she was, she always felt alone and feared that it will all be taken away from her. Especially with the fact that her parents were heroes themselves, there was always a chance that they can end up hurt or worse, if not careful.

- But Bucky always made sure to tell her and every single one of his children, “Don’t worry, I’ll always come back home to you guys, no matter how long it takes.” And Sam would tell them, “You’re our kids, we will always love you and be there to tuck you in bed whenever we can.”

- Sometimes they would be gone for 2-3 days, maybe a week or a whole month leaving the kids in care of family and friends. Laurie was the oldest of the siblings, so they could handle themselves very well and or sneak off to join the fight ending with them in trouble. Benjamin being the second oldest, so he rather stay behind during the fight and stay with his sisters and friends.

- Speaking of fights and travel, when if plenty say battle isn’t place for children. Sometimes Sam and Bucky had no choice but to bring there kids with them to places like Wakanda, Stark Tower, France and or let’s say Germany for instance. Even though it was a hassle to bring children along for the ride, it was an interesting learning experience and a way to test out their kids

- And to be honest, Daph and her siblings enjoy it a little too much. Cracking jokes, running around, exploring different places and meeting interesting people, and creating new ideas among one another. It was a field trip for them sometimes.

-> And if your wondering, yes Daphnia is team #HateJohnWalker! When she found out, she was ready to take her baseball bat and wack his head with it, demanding the Shield back with a glare. Bucky couldn’t be more prouder of her in that moment laughing, meanwhile Sam rolled his eyes unable to believe what he heard.

- Random fun fact, she played baseball before she was ever adopted and had really good aim, depending on where she was hitting. It was a trait her siblings carried on as well, especially Benjamin even if he was more reserved one, he had a great aim.

- She always loved any sport that involves movement and play, soccer being one of them (since she lived in Brazil for a while). She liked to think she was rather talented when it came to that, even if she was a problem when it came to being around other kids, having a small temper and glaring at other people. Mainly, it was her insecurity that she hid underneath her own glares. 

- Matter a fact all the kids were talented in their own way ever since they were younger. Daphne when she was very little, believed at the time that she didn’t have any good talents and wasn’t as smart enough as it is. Until Sam took her out to the shopping and noticed that she stopped in front of small gymnastics building with wide eyes, softly grinning at the sight. She pleaded for him to let her walk in and see the girls, he nodded letting her watch. As she did, Daph realized she wanted to join in on the fun and dance as well. Sam couldn’t stop himself and called Bucky for his opinion on it.

- She started her classes soon enough and enjoyed it for the most part, her body was rather sore after some classes. So she wasn’t too happy about that part. When Bucky told Nat about it, the Russian spy came in shocked and said, “If she wanted to learn some acrobatics, why didn’t you come to me or Lydia? Barton would’ve showed her!” 

- Bucky just rolled his eyes and replied, “Cause she wanted that to be her own thing. And it doesn’t hurt to have some normalcy around her, Romanoff. I think it’s a good thing..” And Bucky was right about that, since he loved seeing his husband and children happy, enjoying themselves and having a break from the hero world. Hell, he goes to every talent show, buys items needed and participates in whatever is needed. Even if he’s not too happy about it at first.

- Of course as much as acrobatics were her own thing and all she ever wanted to do, so she can have that skill set. That didn’t stop the idea of having good marksmanship in her left corner, she was already good with a baseball bat and Bucky was more than happy to show the basics of how to hold/use a gun to his kids. Sam wasn’t too pleased about that idea though saying, “They’re too young!”

- And to be honest, Daph was pretty good with a gun. Swinging it swiftly and tossing the gun in her hands, holding it up to her target (which was an old target board hanging outside nearby the trees). However that didn’t mean she didn’t play around with the gun at first, holding in her hands and pretending to be a spy. “Barnes, but you can call Agent Daphnia Wilson, at your service.” She said with a giggle, humoring herself.

- Daph was always a little silly, cocky and daring. Not thinking first and asking questions later kinda gal—oops! So it lead her to getting in trouble sometimes, breaking certain curfews if she out at the movies with a friend (like with one of the young avengers), being a little lazy about things and running away from her problems like a champ. But by the end of the day, she was good girl.

-> Speaking of Young Avengers and Older Avengers. You’re probably wondering who’s her favorites are and first impression were of the teams huh? Well, here are your answers.

Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff were a given to being liked by her, due to her parents being friends with them. I mean come on, they are basically Captain America, The Black Widow and the rest of Cap’s Quarter.

Moving down the list Thor was always a silly man to her, hearing stories how he speaks in old English and is very noble when it comes to the things that he does. According to the stories from Sam, he was a rather loud fella with a good heart.

Clint Barton, she took a liking too finding his simple ways of life and honest charm to be a nice thing to see. Plus Clint has a similar murder stare to Bucky, so it was funny to see their resting faces when they’re in the same room together.

The man, the myth, the legend himself (or that’s at least what people like to say) Tony Stark was always one of a kind. She was very nervous to meet all of The Avengers, one of them being Stark having seen how the persona he displayed on TV screens and the stories. But in reality, Tony was just a genius goof with snarky humor, so it lighten up her mood.

It was like Bruce Banner sensed her nervousness from a mile away since she appeared in The Tower. He noticed the child behind Sam Wilson holding her jacket, leaned down to her level to kindly introduce himself to the girl and watching parents reactions. Soon enough, with Bucky leaning against the wall with a nod of encouragement, Daph started talking to Bruce with such softness and gentleness.

As for the rest of them, she met them some time later. The Young Avengers. She met the Stark siblings, Rei wasn’t in the lightest mood having no like the idea of meeting Barnes or Wilson’s kids but Olivia gave her a warm welcome and waved at her before rushing off to meet her friends at the mall.

Natasha Romanoff’s daughter Rochelle was kind enough to show her and her siblings around, chatting with them knowing it felt to be the new kids. Daph liked her reddish hair and kind smile.

Liane was something else, having been on a rambling mess when she met Daph and trying to figure out what to do with her plans. Laurie laughed as her sister snicker at the blonde, meanwhile Benji just rolled his eyes confused wanting to get away from there.

Meira was and will always be a delight to meet, since Daphnia met her that same week in The Tower’s kitchen and taste testing her new batch of cookies. They were delicious.

Speaking of food, when Daphnia met Rick she got the same warmth and kindness she remembered from being Bruce. But this time it involved snacks and jokes around his week at The Tower, she was all ears listening to him as they entered the kitchen to find some chicken nuggets.

Cole and Luna, it was more magic and fun spells when she came to see them. The two were casting some spills, when she got caught in one of them being turned into a little mouse by accident. Cole laughed as Luna worried, but they turned her back to normal soon enough.

Ethan was the 3rd sibling she met, and she thanked all the Stars and Stripes that it was a simple meeting. He was watching a movie, being Monsters Inc. when she met him the guy joining The Young Avengers for a movie night.

———

I hope you liked it and thank you for taking your time to read this!

If you want to know anything about theses OCs, let me know in the comments below.

Please like, comment, share and reblog if you like.

Tags: @gcthvile @rickb-chaos @msrochelleromanofffelton @mallowbee4 @mandylove1000 @gaminggirlsstuff @whitewiccan @rooster-84 @sherloquestea @starkleila @meiramel @blueboirick and etc



#tony stark daughter #tony stark x daughter!reader #sambucky #bucky barnes x daughter!reader #sam wilson x bucky barnes #bucky barnes x oc #tony stark x oc #sam wilsom #marvel oc #marvel x oc #isabela merced #victoria moroles #dad!bucky #mcu rp #mcu oc #oc rp #marvel fanfic writer #pepperoni #natasha romanoff #steve rogers #bruce banner #thor odinson #clint barton #young avengers

[pengychan]

[Baldur’s Gate III] A Deal in Three Acts: Act II

Title: A Deal in Three Acts Summary: Weeks since Raphael took temporary residence at Sharess’ Caress, Haarlep is bored. Still waiting for Tav to take him up on his offer, Raphael is frustrated. Tav chooses an interesting evening to show up with a counter-offer. Characters: Raphael, Haarlep, Tav. Rating: Explicit Status: Complete

Act I here Also on AO3

*** Sometimes nice simple plans fall apart, but they can be salvaged with an incubus on your side. I think. ***

When Tav had left Elfsong Tavern to head for Sharess’ Caress, she had a plan. 

A nice, simple plan, as Astarion had called it after they’d spent hours going through every detail of their counter-offer to avoid every possible pitfall. Two centuries since he’d last donned a magistrate’s robes, he still had plenty of insight to give when it came to binding contracts.

“I think I would have hated dealing with magistrate Ancunín,” Tav had muttered. Sitting on the tavern’s terraced roof to bask in the rays of the dying sun, a leg dangling off into the air, Astarion had laughed. He laughed a lot more lately, and it was good to see. In the days after they’d cut down Cazador Szarr, he’d seemed to emptied out that everyone at camp had worried. Now, finally, it seemed to have truly hit him - that the monster who’d taken everything from him was gone, and could never hurt him again.

Tav hoped to feel like that, too, and soon.

“Oh, most people hated dealing with this menace,” Astarion had said, gesturing to himself. “And our friend Raphael will be none too pleased by our counter-offer, I bet, but you must not yield an inch. He’s desperate for that crown, and while we have a backup plan, he does not. Our little, shall we say, requests are just trivial matters to the bearer of the Crown of Karsus. He has nothing to lose and everything to gain by accepting.”

“I suppose the clause binding him to limit his rule to the Nine Hells of Baator may be the main stumbling block.”

“Ah, but he already said he’d do that, didn’t he? He cannot refuse to put it on paper without admitting he lied. Of course, we’ll need the entire contract in a language we understand . And a copy for ourselves. I really can’t believe so many people keep doing that. Signing contracts in some language they don’t know, without even their own copy. Wyll was incredibly lucky we found a way to break his contract and save his father.”

“Not everyone’s a magistrate, magistrate.”

“That’s bloody common sense, darling. Now, let’s go over this again, just to make sure you didn’t forget anything…”

They did, and she hadn’t. Tav left the tavern before the last rays of sun disappeared beyond buildings, taking care to speak with no one else. She knew all too well that most of her companions would disapprove, to say the least - Karlach and Gale most of all. But this was for their sake, too. 

If everything went as planned, if she could get Raphael to accept the counter-offer, they would both be free of the ticking time bombs in their chests. And of course, Tav would get a shot at seeing an Archdevil die. 

The Hells were the Hells; it did not matter to her what devil ruled supreme over it all. She’d gladly hand Raphael the crown and all her own magic on top of it, if it meant she could see Zariel dead and broken, a charred husk among ruins like… like…

“I’m not going to give you a lecture about revenge, because you deserve it as I deserved mine,” was the last thing Astarion had told her before she left. “But they’re dead and you’re alive. Take the blood you’re owed, but keep your life.”

“Is that a very long-winded way to tell me to be careful?”

“I say it a lot better than you do, my friend. If you’re not back by morning, I’ll come looking. You can be certain I will. But I’ll be cursing you the entire way there and back.”

Tav, who’d planned to be back long before morning, had nodded. A simple goal, a simple plan. Nothing was going to throw her off course; she told herself as much while going up the stairs, opening the door, and stepping in the room. 

Then-- well, for all her grim determination, the sight had sort of thrown her off. You can never be completely sure of what you’ll see when walking in on a devil, but Tav had no trouble admitting that ‘Raphael fucking himself in the most literal sense possible’ was not among the possible scenarios she’d thought up. She hadn’t meant to make noise, either, but she had and all things considered, it had been a blessing in disguise. 

Had the incubus not helpfully introduced themself to her, she might have assumed that the Bhaal cult’s shapeshifters were taking an entirely new approach since Orin’s demise, and she might have attacked. Needless to say, it would have made the situation quite awkward.

Well. More awkward.

“Why don’t you join us, little mouse? Get up close and discuss to your heart’s content. I won’t interrupt. I’ll just be doing my thing.”

“Haarlep--” Raphael tried to speak, his voice strained in a way Tav had never heard it, and even that attempt broke up into a groan when the incubus thrust upwards. It was, pun intended, one hell of a sight: Raphael’s naked body on the lap of an incubus who looked almost exactly like his cambion form, his thighs spread open and chest heaving with ragged breaths. 

And Tav she knew a chance when she saw it. She couldn’t have dreamed up an occasion like that, with Raphael that vulnerable, barely coherent . Plus, no matter what Astarion said - she was very much not made of wood. When she met his eyes, clouded with lust as they were, her next words came out in a husky murmur. “May I, Raphael?”

A wordless groan, all his eloquence gone, but it was the only answer she needed. His chest shuddered under her touch and oh, he was feverishly warm, skin glossy with sweat. Beneath her palm, his heart thumped wildly. Tav leaned in, and pressed her lips against his throat. She felt him swallow, and smiled. Her own breathing came a little faster, too. “Tell me what you want.”

“The crown--” he tried, only for an especially clever twist of Haarlep’s hips and to turn the words in a whine. The incubus caught Tav’s eye over his shoulder, and grinned. If they knew what she was trying to do, one thing was clear: they had no intention to stop her.

Good.

Tav pulled back, and tilted Raphael’s chin up. She ran her thumb across his lips, her other hand trailing down his chest, down his stomach, coming to rest on a trembling thigh. “Yes,” she said. “It would look good on you. I want to give you that crown. So you can see all the devils of Baator bowing to you - that’s what you really want, isn’t it?”

“I--” he groaned, dropping his head back against Haarlep’s shoulder at a well-timed tilt of their hips. His hands clenched on sheets. “Yes,” he breathed. There was something else to his shaky voice, a need, a hunger that could never be sated. It sent a shiver down Tav’s spine, more heat pooling in her loins. It was getting really, really warm in that armor. 

“You want to see them kneel, don’t you?” she whispered, and finally took his cock in her hand, her touch light, to trace a vein with a nail. “You want to see everyone kneel.”

Raphael’s hips shuddered, and he couldn’t bite back a cry. “Yes,” he managed, and Haarlep laughed. 

“Oh, this one,” they said, grinding up into Raphael. “I like her.”

Somehow, Raphael managed a scoff. “You like-- everyone, you insatiable--”

“That’s patently untrue, my pet. I don’t like you, for one.”

The response made Raphael scowl, and wrinkle his nose. He wrinkled his nose a lot when annoyed and it made it somewhat difficult to take him seriously, power of the Hells and all. Tav smiled, and leaned in, almost close enough to kiss him. She did not have Yurgir’s keen sense of smell, but there it was, just like he’d said - the scent of cherries and musk beneath the lingering sulfur. Her voice had always been a little too rough to sound truly sweet, but she did her best to soften it. “Do you want me to kneel for you, Raphael?”

He didn’t answer, not with words: he tried to lean forward instead, to catch her lips with his, to grab her and pull her closer. Tav was fast enough to pull back, though, and the incubus’ hands grasped Raphael’s wrists, snake-quick. Haarlep laughed at the frustrated noise that got out of him, and thrust upwards into him sharply, biting into his shoulder in the same motion.

“Behave, little brat,” they purred against his ear. “She asked you a question, it’s only polite to answer. With words. Do you want her to kneel for you?”

If Tav could bottle the moan that left Raphael then, and sell it, she’d be able to buy the Gate and everyone in it ten times over. Maybe there was a way to do that, really, but working it out would have to wait. Right now, she had a more urgent matter to take care of.

Well, two urgent matters. There was the contract, too. She probably shouldn’t forget that.

“What did you say, pet? I couldn’t hear a yes or a no.” The incubus grinned, delighted, and bit into his shoulder again. Raphael cried out, wordless, but he managed a nod and Tav supposed she could go with that. She placed a kiss on his shoulder, just below the bite mark, and knelt between his trembling thighs. Up close, she noticed the ring at the base of his cock for the first time. She tilted her head, running a finger down the length. 

Well, look at that. He wasn’t getting to come anytime soon with that thing on. 

“Believe me, you’d have missed all the fun if I hadn’t put that on,” Haarlep almost sing-sang, and let go of one of Raphael’s wrists to grab his face, forcing him to look down. Tav lifted her gaze to see his eyes on her, his lips parted and face flushed, Haarlep’s claws pressing mercilessly into his cheeks. The incubus in question smiled over his shoulder. 

“Do you know what he sees when he looks at you? He’ll never tell you, but he told me. I can make him tell me everything,” they cooed, and silenced Raphael’s attempt at a protest with two fingers in his mouth, pressing down his tongue. Raphael made an indignant noise, but his body remained flush against Haarlep’s chest, his eyes still fixed on Tav, wide and dark and hungry. “Can you guess?”

Great, so this was a guessing game now. Tav raised an eyebrow. “A rodent of small size?” she ventured.  The incubus’ smile widened.

“His kingdom, that’s what he sees. He looks at you, and he sees his crowning glory.”

Well, fuck. That sure did something to the pit of her stomach and a little below that too. Gods was it hot in there. “Ah,” Tav said, and her voice cracked just a touch, but she managed to catch herself. She had to keep some measure of control if she was to negotiate, because Raphael’s helpless state would do her no good if her brain also turned to mush. So she steadied herself, and locked eyes with him. 

She was beginning to feel decidedly overdressed, and her own face was burning, but she held his gaze as she took hold of his cock and leaned in to press her lips on the side of the shaft in a soft kiss. Raphael keened around Haarlep’s fingers, hips shuddering and back arching. The incubus laughed, and thrust up again - hard - to tear another cry from his throat. 

“Ah, now we’re talking. You’re so much more fun than usual, my little brat,” they said, soft, almost affectionate. They snuck their free arm around Raphael to pull him back against their chest, pinching a nipple. “But oh, aren’t we terrible hosts. I should have told you to make yourself at home, little mouse. Feel free to slip out of that armor. It looks so uncomfortable.” A pause, a tilt of their head. “And unflattering, if I may.”

Tav allowed one more kiss on the inside of Raphael's thigh and stood, just a little unsteady. She began undoing the clasps with a huff. “The point of an armor isn’t to be flattering,” she muttered, letting the parts drop on the floor and trying not to look in Raphael’s direction just yet. “It’s to keep pointy things from skewering you.”

“Oh, then you should definitely take it off now.”

“... Guess I walked into that one.” 

The last of Tav’s underclothes were dropped on the floor, and only then did she look back at Haarlep and Raphael. The incubus had pulled their fingers out of Raphael’s mouth and was smiling, eyes running over her body. Not a lot there for them to see, to be entirely honest; she’d always been about as shapely as a wooden board. 

On one of the last nights they’d spent together, Misza had joked that she had curves enough for them both, and pretended to smother her against her breast. They had laughed like idiots, and that was when Tav had decided she should put a ring on it, before someone else snatched her up. And she’d been snatched all right, but down, down into the Hells along with the entire city and--

A lump threatened to form in her throat and Tav forced it away, pushing memories of better times in the back of her mind, where dead things lingered amidst the ruins of Elturel. Dead, charred things. Her mother and father and all her little siblings, and the woman she’d wanted to propose to once she returned from her time in the countryside, where she had gone to learn how to better control her wild magic. 

But she’d returned to find a crater where Elturel once was; while the city re-emerged from the Hells in the end, many of its inhabitants didn’t live to see the sky again. She had buried the only body she could recognize, her youngest brother with his owlbear plush toy still in his arms. Then the ring meant for Misza had been sold for passage to Baldur’s Gate and she’d left, long before the surviving citizens cast out all remaining tieflings among them.

“Are you well, little mouse?” Haarlep’s voice snapped her out of it, and they spoke slower, their gaze more focused, a hint of a frown across their features. 

Tav met their gaze, and smiled. She had plenty of reasons to smile. They were all gone, but she was still around and so was Zariel, who’d had the city dragged into Avernus. Zariel, who would never surrender her throne without a fight. Zariel, whose days as archdevil would be numbered if Raphael got his way - and he would, as long as she could secure a few clauses. She’d happily be the key to Raphael’s future kingdom, then. 

After all, he was her key to Zariel’s bloody demise. It was a fair exchange. He just didn’t need to know that. 

“Just admiring the sights,” she said, and looked back at the devil she was getting to know a damn lot better than before. Raphael had shut his eyes, brow furrowed and breathing fast, clearly trying to regain some semblance of control. And that, she knew, would not do. The less in control he was, the more chances she had to turn the negotiations her way. 

So she pushed aside hesitation, strode to the bed, and tilted up Raphael’s face. He blinked his eyes open, as though startled by the touch, and swallowed. “The crown,” he breathed, and Tav smiled. Her other hand went down to her folds, two fingers slipping in and coming out slick and glistening. She pressed them to Raphael’s mouth and he parted his lips to let them in, eyes falling shut with a shiver. His tongue felt too warm, too, and Tav licked her lips. 

“Yes,” she rasped, pushing him against Haarlep’s chest. The incubus leaned back, arms braced on the mattress behind them, and Raphael could only tilt back against them, groaning at the shift of the cock inside him. Tav straddled him, letting his erection barely brush against her labia, just enough to let him feel how warm she was, and how wet. His breath hitched, eyes fluttering open, and she smiled again. “Let’s talk about the crown I’m going to place on your head. I’d like to see you with that on. Just the crown.” 

A hand through his hair, the press of lips against his own, and Raphel’s hands gripped her sides hard enough to bruise, pulling her flush against him, chest to chest. She blinked, taken aback, but then she felt him part his lips to let her tongue in and ah, may as well. She kissed him, more roughly and a good deal more enthusiastically than she had originally planned. 

“I think he likes us,” she recalled Astarion saying, and she recalled her reply just as well.

"I like him too, but I'd never say it to his smarmy face."

Well. She was not saying anything of the sort, and he didn’t look all that smarmy anymore, so her point still stood. She heard, dimly, Haarlep’s throaty chuckle. 

“This one’s eager, pet. Didn’t even need my saliva to help along.”

There was something that sounded very much like a growl deep in Raphael’s chest, and he pulled away from Tav’s mouth to turn and snap at Haarlep to be quiet. Or try to, because it took the incubus only a jolt of their hips for his words to turn into a moan.

“You be quiet, little brat. You’re no one’s master tonight, remember?” they whispered against his ear, and smiled at Tav over his shoulder. “I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, by the way. I’m always telling Raphael he should introduce me to his friends more often. Alas, he expressly forbade me to play with you. Never seen him get this jealous.”

“That’s not--” Raphael gasped, and Haarlep silenced him with a few swift thrusts. Still straddling Raphael, Tav grasped his shoulders to avoid being thrown off; his cock rubbed against her folds, only for a moment, but it tore a gasp from her and a moan from Raphael. He dropped his forehead against Tav’s shoulder, gasping, and Tav cupped the back of his head without thinking, stroked down the back of his neck before she finally, finally , allowed herself to sink down on him. 

“Oh…” A sigh, and she closed her eyes, taking a moment to savor the feeling, the stretch. She was wet and he slid in so easily, so deep. Was it supposed to feel that warm? Was it a devil thing? Did it matter? Probably not; it felt good either way. Against her skin, Raphael let out an incoherent noise and grasped her again, pulling her close.

Don’t worry, I’m going nowhere, she almost said, but what left her mouth was quite different.

“This is going to be quite a tale,” she groaned, her voice rough, and rocked her hips. “That I bedded the archdevil supreme. No one’s going to believe me.”

A shudder, and there was no telling what had caused it - the heat of her around him, her movements, or her words. Either way, he pulled back enough to look at her. There it was, in the midst of pleasure - that hungry look again. “You shall give me the crown,” he rasped, and Tav smiled.

“I want to give you the crown just as much as you want to put an end to the Grand Design. But like you, I have conditions.” A kiss, deep, a slow tilt of her hips. Haarlep moved again beneath them, inside Raphael, and somehow it was easy to match their movements, find the right rhythm. Raphael’s breaths came in shuddering gasps, but he did not call for either of them to stop. “So I have come with a counteroffer.”

A scoff. “There is no counteroffer to be-- made,” he groaned through clenched teeth. 

A smile, a kiss. “You forget,” Tav whispered against his lips, rocking slowly, “that I have a backup plan, and you do not.”

“Trusting-- ah-- an Illithid is no plan. It’s sheer-- ngh-- idiocy.”

“Ah, but I thrive on idiocy. Idiocy got me this far.” She stilled, clenched around him, and muffled the noise that got out of him with another kiss. “It might just carry me a little further. If the Emperor can help us destroy the Netherbrain, with or without Orpheus - and you know he can - then we’ll have no reason to give you the crown. Why risk it all without hearing me out?” A light bite on his lower lip. “You’ll find my requests more than reasonable.”

Raphael scowled, but he tilted back his head against Haarlep’s shoulder, and closed his eyes. When she leaned in to nip at his throat, she felt him swallow. “... What are your requests?” he finally groaned.

Well, this is it. Best to start small.

“There are two requests that you can satisfy with little more than a snap of your fingers, I’m sure. Two of my companions carry their doom in their chests. I know that with the Crown of Karsus, you can remove the orb from Gale quite readily - and without harming him. And someone capable of creating the Orphic Hammer surely knows how to fix an infernal engine so it can work on this plane without killing its bearer.”

A low, breathy chuckle. “Of course. These will be trivial matters to me.”

“So is that something you’d be willing to add to the contract?”

“Consider it done. Will that-- ah-- ” Raphael trailed off for a moment, trembling, before he caught his voice again. “Will that be all?”

“Not quite. I want to make it clear that no soul but mine will be involved.” She ground against him, hard, and grasped his chin to make sure he’d look at her. His eyes opened, wide and dark, to meet hers. “The crown for the hammer, and for your help for Gale and Karlach, with my soul - mine alone - as the collateral if I fail to deliver the crown. If I deliver it to you, as I intend to, my soul will remain my own.”

Tav watched Raphael’s brow furrow, watched him think it over with as much difficulty one can experience while being fucked by an incubus and a woman at the same time, and finally watched him jerk his head in a nod. “Yes, that is-- ah-- reasonable,” he panted. His hands ran down her back, down her sides, and stopped on her thighs. “Will that-- be all?”

“Not quite.” A kiss, rough. “Another collateral seems fair. You said you’ll limit your rule to the Nine Hells of Baator.”

“And I shall,” Raphael replied, trying to bite her lip, but she was too quick to pull back. She smiled, brushing a hand down his chest, down his stomach, almost to the point where their bodies joined. Her fingers brushed against his shaft, causing him to shudder.

“I want that in writing, binding you to relinquish the crown’s ownership to Mystra if you break the clause.” 

As she had very much expected, Raphael stilled beneath her. He glowered, anger crossing his features even through the daze of pleasure. “No,” he all but growled, and seemed about to add something - but Haarlep rocked into him harder than before, Tav clenched around him, and his voice broke into a groan. Haarlep winked at her; it cost Tav some effort not to openly smile back.

If she succeeded in her mission, she would probably owe the incubus a favor. Oh well. Something could be worked out, surely. 

“No?” she repeated, all fake innocence. She cupped Raphael’s cheek, looking at him in the eye. Her thumb brushed over his lips. “But you have already pledged to keep to the Hells. Putting that in writing should be no trouble at all. Why would it be?”

Because he’d had no intention whatsoever to be true to that pledge, was the obvious answer, but it wasn’t something he could admit without showing his hand. She knew it, he knew it, and he was livid about it. 

… Not livid enough to push her off him, however. She took note of that while waiting for a response. She watched him clench his jaw, then make an effort to smooth his expression. 

“It rather hurts,” he rasped, voice so low, “to see my word doesn’t carry enough weight for you.”

Tav couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “No one’s word does.” She leaned in to kiss the bridge of his nose. “ Verba volant, scripta manent. You of all people would know what that means. You’d be a poor devil indeed, not to take advantage of the lack of a written clause. I’d be disappointed if you didn’t at least try, and you have never disappointed so far.”

He still scowled, but when she pulled back he reached to grasp her head, to pull her mouth back on his. It was a rough, devouring kiss - the first such initiative from his part - and she yielded to it immediately. She sighed into his mouth, wrapped her arms around his neck and tilted her hips again, pressing him down on Haarlep with her meager weight. She swallowed his groan, and shuddered when he bit into her lower lip - not hard enough to draw blood but oh, almost. For a few moments all she could hear was his panting breath, her own thumping heart, and the slick noises they made as she rocked against him again. 

And then, finally, a groan. “... Very well,” he rasped. “It will be clearly stated in the contract--”

“Which will be written in common tongue,” she cut him off. “For me to ready before I sign. With a copy for me to keep.”

This time, she felt the frustrated growl in his chest more than she heard it. His hands, which had been going down her spine, stilled. “Infernal contracts,” he bit out, obviously short on breath, “are meant to be written in Infernal. It’s very much in the name, little mouse.”

Tav leaned her cheek on his shoulder, and bit at his earlobe. “A certified translation, then, with witnesses,” she panted. He felt hot to the touch and so did she, unbearably so, skin slick with sweat. Still she pressed her face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. Cherries and musk, yes, and despite the lingering sulfur it was sweet, sweet, intoxicating. Pressure was building up, white-hot. She had to bite her lower lip not to moan. “A-- and a clause that makes the contract null and void-- if the translation differs in any way,” she managed. 

Another groan, part frustration and part arousal, as he shuddered beneath her. “This is-- not the norm, with any contract--”

“But this isn’t any contract, Raphael.” She pulled back, despite the tight grasp around her, to press a kiss against his lips. “This is the one that will make you the archdevil supreme of all Baator.”

“I’ve extended-- more than enough grace--”

“I only want guarantees for what you already promised.” Tav cut him off, and smiled against his lips before pulling away, arching her back. To her satisfaction, Raphael had to bite his lips to silence a moan. She placed both hands on his chest, and rocked her hips. She was close - Gods, was she close - and he was still hard within her, so warm, unable to finish. 

“Contracts can be changed, if both parties agree,” she managed through ragged breaths. “The ruler of all Hells may yet convince me to revise it.” Absolutely not, but you’re welcome to try. If I truly can take that crown from a Netherbrain I’ll be able to take it from you, if I must. “And you’ll have plenty of time to do so. I’ll come to the Hells and join your war.” Let me be the one to cut down Zariel, and I’ll follow you to the Ninth. “We can make-- a separate contract, if you like. I won’t leave until I see you sit on Asmodeus’ throne.”

For a moment, Raphael truly seemed at a loss for words. He stared, eyes wide, as though struggling to make sense of what he’d just heard. Even his grip on her hips slackened. “You-- I--”

“Oh, please let her come over. She’s fun. We could use some fun.”

Haarlep’s voice caused him to recoil, as though he’d somehow forgotten about their presence despite the cock buried inside him. Though come to think of it, Tav hadn’t felt Haarlep move for… several minutes, at least. 

“You-- this is none of your concern, incubus-- and why did you stop? ” Raphael bit out, turning to glare at the incubus in question. They were leaning back on their elbows, head tilted, and grinned widely before thrusting upwards in a smooth motion. Raphael shuddered, and pressed his mouth against Tav’s shoulder to muffle a groan. 

“Ah, my apologies. The two of you were such a fun spectacle to watch,” Haarlep muttered, and sat up, chest once again pressing against Raphael’s back. “You want to finish, don’t you, little brat?” Another upward thrust, another moan against Tav’s skin. “Then wrap up the conversation, pet. It’s impolite to keep a lady waiting for an answer.”

A growl, and Raphael lifted his head to look Tav in the eyes. Shortly after their first meeting, she recalled Gale claiming he’d seen a spark of Hellfire in his eyes. She’d thought he was just being dramatic at the time, but now, up close… oh, she could see it too, and more than a spark. It made her breath catch, pleasure coiling in her loins. Her grip on his shoulders tightened when he spoke, his voice low. 

“... Very well. But you will get me that crown, little mouse. If you refuse, I will have your soul. If you fail to get it for me and die, I’ll still have your soul. Am I clear?”

A nod, a shuddering breath. “Yes,” she managed. “That sounds-- ah-- fair.”

“We have-- a deal, then,” Raphael breathed, and Tav claimed his lips again. Negotiations concluded, she could finally let go of the last shreds of self control and ride him in earnest, grinding hard against him. Her ears were buzzing and all her limbs felt so heavy and so light all of a sudden, her body flushing hot and cold at the same time. 

Distantly, she heard Haarlep laugh, and Raphael cry out. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how that had to feel for him, with both her and Haarlep moving fast and hard, around him and inside him, keeping him trapped between them as they took their pleasure, unable to move and helplessly feeling it all. 

Later, Tav wouldn't know for how long it went on. Too long, probably. Not long enough, surely. She teetered on the edge of orgasm and she was sure she’d break, but she did not. Or at least, she was not the first to break.

“Haarlep--” Raphael cried out against Tav’s neck, and something suspiciously like a sob wracked his body; the face pressed against her skin felt too wet for it to be just sweat. The incubus let out a low, rumbling chuckle. Tav felt their hand slip between them, down Raphael’s stomach and then lower, the back of it barely brushing against her as the fingers toyed with the ring at the base of Raphael’s cock. 

“You want it off, don’t you, little duke?”

“Yes-- yes-- ”

“Beg.”

Another sob, and something dripped down Tav’s neck, down her shoulder. Raphael’s arms were gripping her tightly, as if he was desperately trying to ground himself to something. “Please,” he choked out, and somehow the desperation in his voice was what finally pushed Tav over the edge.

The orgasm was almost blinding, mind-numbing in its intensity, wave after wave of pleasure up her spine. She clenched around him and shuddered hard enough she almost thought, for a moment, that she might seize and die. What a way to go, she thought, barely coherent, holding onto the only Raphael for dear life. A hell of a way to go. If her heart stopped now, she wasn’t sure she’d have complaints.

She never had to find out, though, because her heart did not stop. It kept beating wildly in her chest when her shudders died down and she went limp against Raphael, panting, head spinning. Against her ear, Raphael keened. 

“Please!”

A chuckle, and now even the incubus sounded breathless. “Good boy,” they said, and reached down again. Tav did not see or feel what they did, but suddenly the ring was gone and Raphael muffled a cry against her, his entire body shuddering. And maybe it was her mind playing tricks on her, but Tav could have sworn even his come felt warmer than it had any right to be. She clenched around him reflexively, still mostly spent, and Raphael trembled before he, too, went limp.

“There, little brat. Take it,” Haarlep was murmuring, and thrust their hips upwards one last time before stilling and closing their eyes with a long, pleased sigh. “Oh, this was so much better than usual…”

They said something else, probably, but Tav was beyond hearing it. She must have blacked out, or something like it, because it felt as though she’d only blinked and then she opened her eyes to find herself leaning on her side on the bed, empty and panting, a sticky and cooling mess on the inside of her thighs. She was vaguely aware of the fact Haarlep was sitting at the foot of the bed, saying something about the pool in the next room; but she didn’t look up, couldn’t lift her head.

And neither, it seemed, could Raphael. He was still holding onto her, face wet and burrowed against her throat, breathing ragged. His frame trembled; she reached to brush his hair back without thinking, nails scraping gently against his scalp. She wasn’t sure how long she did that, mind empty of all thought, but eventually their breathing slowed, his trembling subsided. Her fingers tangled once more in Raphael’s hair and did not move again. He remained still, too, his breathing slow and steady against her skin. 

Tav closed her eyes, and let herself fall into nothingness. Somewhere in that darkness on the brink of sleep she saw the Crown of Karsus on Raphael’s head, saw Zariel’s broken body at his feet, saw her head in her hands.

And she smiled.

***

[Back to Act I]

[On to Act III]

#bg3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 tav #bg3 raphael #bg3 haarlep #tiefling tav #female tav #raphael bg3 #deal in three acts

[snakedifferentskin]

They didn’t listen. They didn’t even give him a chance.

They… they shunned him.

Oliver’s fall is painful, horribly so, just as Marc had described. He still remembers being held down, the threat of a blade hovering over the base of his wings as he pleaded in between sobs only to be taken pity on by a Seraphim. He’s not sure if the small mercy on his wings was better or worse.

As he crashes into a murky pond and he forces his body to drag himself out, every inch of his vessel trembles and quivers from the exertion. Everything hurts. His muscles ache, his wings are charred from being lit aflame during his fall and only being put out from landing in the filthy waters, and there’s an unfamiliar pain in his soul that’s the worst of all. He can feel the remaining pure light of his spirit being ripped away from him.

Oliver almost instantly falls back onto the ground when he tries to rise, laying flat on his stomach on the wet grass as the heavens mourn and cry for him with each raindrop.

He cries. He sobs, wails, screams as he clutches at the Earth beneath him, mourns the loss of his family and status and purpose. It still hurts.

He’s nothing now.

A celebration ruptures through Hell as they hear the crash of an angel against the Earth. Chants go out and begin taking bets on every aspect of the angels tumble down from grace. From why it fell to how burnt it would be, even the reasons why it fell. All of them want to see when the angel would fall and become another impish being. Some even bet on who it is, naming all their old friends and family still hanging in the clouds. Marc only was back down there to trade for new mortal vices and delights for his lover. Hearing the rumours of an angel falling, he remembers what day it is. Oliver was going to heaven, to try and confront them.

Rising up from the dirt, Marc begins to run around the forest and try to find his angel. He smells the charred and burnt edges of flesh, nauseating as ever. Dropping the presents like a trail of breadcrumbs, passing by the lake and finding Oliver in the pond. Destroyed in his fall, his wings blackened and stretched out around him. Such horrific screams, unable to stop crying in agony. Marc falls beside him, pulling him out from the mud and onto the grass. “Darling, darling I’m so sorry. Darling!”

#a grand performance #constant rehearsal #undue saviour #this demon wears prada

[nogenderbee]

Someone asks if you're single during MMJ stream

TagList: @qwnelisa - come get your charming idol~

⊱ More More Jump had their practice stream today and you decided to watch them and maybe help them when you could

⊱ you were catched on camera only once, when Minori tripped and you rushed to help her get up and make sure that she's alright

⊱ it's when you were helping your girlfriend, Haruka noticed specific question in the chat

"Hey YN, someone asks if you're single in the chat..."

⊱ when you heard that question, you kissed your girlfriends forehead as a sign that you're happily taken

"No! I'm happy with my clumsy girlfriend!"

"YN!!!!!"

⊱ that's when Minori couldn't hold back and just hold you tightly because of how awesome lover you were to her

⊱ till the end of the stream, your girlfriend always found a way to hold hands or cuddle with you. In the end maybe she was a little jealous?

⊱ More More Jump had one of those 'pick an outfit for ...' stream today and they just happen to pick outfit for Haruka so you were supposed to be surprise guest that also gets to pick outfit for her

⊱ when it was your time to present, the chat went wild but Airi still managed to catch one question

"Hey, Haruka. Take a look at this!"

" 'Is YN single?' Oh, I'm sorry but they're not... They're actually my partner."

⊱ expect lots of edits with both of you

⊱ you only agreed on this and continued your presentation but you could sense that since this, there was something off with your girlfriend

⊱ after you finished your presentation she initiated handholding way more often than before during the stream

⊱ luckily for all of you, your outfit won! So you were happy from your win, and your girlfriend was happy that she could wear something YOU picked for her

⊱ More More Jump invited you to help on their cooking stream since extra pair of hands always is useful and you didn't mind helping!

⊱ you were mostly passing ingredients and showed on camera only once, when you passed girls wet cloth so they can clean their hands

⊱ that's when Shizuku saw stream char go wild, which Airi of course couldn't ignore

"Oh, I think our fans like YN! That's so sweet of them!"

"Really? Let me see! ...'Are they single?' Nope! They're already taken by me!"

⊱ her words may sound nice but her voice sounded a little... angry?

⊱ and later on she even kissed you on camera as proof of her words

⊱ and from that moment, every time camera catched you, Airi always used the opportunity and kissed you on camera so no one else will get idea that you're single

⊱ so it's obvious that chat called her out on being jealous over you

⊱ More More Jump had calm game stream on which they just played some board games and they decided to invite you as a special guest so you can have fun with them

⊱ the moment you showed on camera tho, everyone talked about you in chat so it's not a surprise that with that much attention someone asked about your relationship status

⊱ it was Airi who noticed little message in the chat who was someone annoyed

" 'Is YN single?' Ah... of course we start with relationship status question..."

⊱ Shizuku on the other hand, didn't mind it at all, she thought about it as a question meant for her

"No! YN and I are happy couple! But they ARE cute, right guys?"

⊱ she was so happy about that question that she even kissed you on camera possibly showering you with them if someone won't stop her

⊱ she didn't acted any different for the rest of the stream, she really acted like it was casual question but... maybe it is for her? I mean... she IS pretty

❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉

#project sekai #colorful stage #project sekai colorful stage #x reader #project sekai x reader #colorful stage x reader #project sekai colorful stage x reader #minori hanasato #haruka kiritani #airi momoi #shizuku hinomori #minori hanasato x reader #haruka kiritani x reader #airi momoi x reader #shizuku hinomori x reader #project sekai minori hansato #project sekai haruka kiritani #project sekai airi momoi #project sekai shizuku hinomori #project sekai minori x reader #project sekai haruka x reader #project sekai airi x reader #project sekai shizuku x reader #fluff #headcanons #project sekai fluff #project sekai headcanons

[generalluxun]

You say that 'Strong Female Characters' are rarely allowed to struggle. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? How much can a person struggle and still be called a “strong character”? Is the common standard in mainstream fiction different between men and women? Is Felix a strong character? Is Gabriel a strong character? What about Andre Bourgeois? I’ve got a feeling Astruc considers Andre a strong character.

Felix is not a strong character. He is a Wiley powerbroker, but we saw the moment things didn't go his way he folded like a deck of cards in front of Adrien and Kagami in Emotion and had a breakdown.

Andre is a sack of meat and little more.

Gabriel is... strong in a sense? the show is very inconsistent on this front. It has taken time, planning, willpower, and determination to preserve his wife and become hawkmoth in the first place. Facing setback after setback and continuing on, also takes strength. S5 kind of goes all over with him in a messy way though so in the end it's. 🤷‍♀️

Marinette is supposed to be the 'Strong Female Character' in the show. She has all the earmarks of the old stereotype. She is good at all things, she plows through and always ends up winning. Her mistakes are trivialized and her victories amplified. This is a shame because honestly, a Marinette who struggled a little more would be a heck of a lot more compelling(seen in the movie and in lots of fanfiction)

But wait! you say, she struggles a lot! Her struggles are all self-inflicted, and while self inflicted struggles are valid, they can't be the *only* struggles someone faces. No one was ever a serious 'threat' to her love story with Adrien. Kagami was allowed to get in the way for one whole episode (and this after Marinette herself had Luka waiting in the wings) Adienette was just waiting for the train to arrive at the station. On the super side there was some build up of tension early on, but when the main char's power is 'Win the battle with this thing' it's hard to heap too much tension. Not only that S5 very quickly turned losing all the Miraculous into just the status quo of one akuma at a time. *They were fighting Monarch with paintball guns and winning* No stakes.

Before Emotion/Pretension I would have said Kagami qualifies as a strong character. She struggles in love and friendship, but she works and tries to find a path through. Her greatest enemy in love is also one of her first friends. How's that for a challenge? Watching how she interacted with the adrienette dynamic from day 1 up to Protection was great. THEN she got foisted off onto Felix as a prize and sold out Ladybug. Girl deserved better.

There are plenty of strong female characters (which is different than 'Strong female character') in other media though. Adora, Luz, Willow just to name a couple off the top of my head.

The problem with finding them in ML is that the plot tends to jerk them around randomly. Like, I would like to say Ms. Bustier, because she holds to an ideal and does work to keep to it until the end. But she also ignored one of her students doing zero work in her class for multiple years. That's... not good. That is what makes you think the strength might be vapid apathy instead. See how hard this is?

Oh hey! Duh, Alya! Alya is definitely a strong character. I mean, she's the one who gets Marinette on her feet. She threads this path of upholding her morals while tempering them with reality. She doesn't hide behind 'identity rules' to avoid tough decisions. She *trusts* people, though it can be a risk. She helps those around her whenever she can. Yes she's stuck holding the idiot ball for plot purposes now and then, but it's so blatant when it happens I can't count it against her.

#miraculous ladybug #ask #marinette dupain cheng #alya cesaire #felix fathom #kagami tsurugi #andre bourgeois #gabriel agreste #caline bustier

[mylordshesacactus]

I adore bragging about my players’ cool moments but, hey, I’m playing the game too, and I gotta give my girl Arlette Starstrike her moment here.

The party has been holding the city. They’re doing well, handily defeating enemies I anticipated being much greater threats; it’s immediately clear why the five of them, alone, are being considered a swing division in their own right by the decimated city guard. When the walls are breached and the party arrives at the gap, they manage to hold it for a while.

But then, the fae commander enters the battlefield.

She’s a pale woman in dark armor, wearing a deeply hooded cloak of such dark green it’s nearly black. The silver greatsword in her hands is brutal in its elegance. She is not hurrying; but her slow, inexorable approach belies the unnatural speed at which she can move, blurring like a heat mirage when she dodges, whipping that vicious greatsword through the air like a reed whip.

She carries a torch of emerald flame. From much, much farther away than she should be able to manage--shortbow range, nearly--she whips it over her head like a javelin into the breach.

The explosion on impact is devastating. Andromeda, their paladin, is thrown sharply into a stone wall, cracks her head against the rubble, and drops. Every other member of the party that was within range is knocked prone by an explosion of magical fire, struggling charred and bleeding to their feet. And then the small army, safe now inside the range of the city’s very, very few trebuchets, rushes in. 

Two massive animated hangman’s trees--hulking oaks, perpetually regenerating themselves with the power of the earth, dripping with black nooses and rusted chains--charge forward to flank their commander, and she walks calmly up to the nearest defender and starts methodically cutting them all to pieces.

Slowly but surely, the party starts to lose.

She fights dirty, using Command words to pull ranged fighters and casters in close before unleashing powerful AoE effects that desiccate the earth, drying out the grass, leeching moisture from the soil, cracking the party’s lips and skin with the heat of a desert sun in summer--here, in late autumn, in the middle of the fantasy space Alps.

She’s smiling. She’s enjoying this.

I think almost every member of the party goes down in this fight at least once--including both paladins (Olassa, taken to her knees by the desiccation spell; Andromeda, struggling back to consciousness to heal herself as best she can and then charge bravely back into the fray because she’s their heaviest hitter and she’s desperately needed)....the only healers the party has access to. 

Audie, a bookish librarian wizard, once again shows her deranged levels of courage by rushing deeper into melee range and sacrifices one of the party’s precious healing potions to get Olassa back to consciousness; but this is no longer a game of healing back to fighting status. The party is tapped. They’re trading hitpoints in the single digits, trying to keep everyone conscious--and it’s a battle they’re losing.

The fae commander steps calmly up until she’s standing over the faintly stirring Olassa. She runs two fingers down the flat of her blade, emerald runes flaring in their wake. The party knows this spell. She’s used it before, against Farrah. There is a non-zero chance that a single blow with this spell active will be enough to kill Olassa instantly--and if it doesn’t, the smile on the commander’s face says she fully intends to finish her off on the backhand.

As she raises the blade, the emerald runes flare amethyst and explode, shattering like dropped glass; the blow goes wild and misses as the commander is knocked away, more by surprise than force, by the snarling werewolf suddenly crouched over the fallen Olassa.

Arlette Starstrike, level five sorcerer, facing a woman armed with a silver greatsword--burning her only level 4 slot on a single desperate Counterspell.

#d&d #suncrest #what is d&d for if not queerbaiting yourself a little

[polijakefim]

F  L  A  U  N  T

TRAVIS FIMMEL

Girl's Gotta Eat

There are paths seen and unseen. There are paths taken. There are the Midwestern housewives who sit at home, who formerly popped bennies and ran topless through every jam band show at the local amphitheater. There are the vagrant, longhaired transients who receive stares as they push their cart of nothings around sweaty Southern towns, that formerly received stares only because they were professing at the front of a philosophy class. There are the attention-deficit young men, oft chastised for their inability to focus, but given open creativity, become playwrights and screenwriters. There are the balladeers. There are the celebrities. There is the you. There is the me. And there is Travis Fimmel, sitting in a hotel room in Vancouver, freezing his balls off. His is a story of barefooted farm boy turned bare-bodied model turned actor.

“It’s bloody cold,” he says in a relaxed Australian drawl. Of course it is. Fimmel grew up helping out on the family farm in a small town on the fork of two rivers in the middle of sunburnt Australia. He’s currently in the benumbed west Canadian port city filming Duncan Jones’ Warcraft: a film of epic proportion and expectation. But despite the video game-based spin-off, one gets the feeling Fimmel is the kind of lad who would much rather be chopping wood than mashing plastic buttons on a gaming controller. “I’d never heard of it,” he freely admits.

The path begins. When I ask about his early foray into Australian-rules football, he concedes what stymied the course, “Yeah but I sucked at it, man, I was very bad.” And thus he skipped the sporting life and tried college, “I didn’t pass any classes becauseI didn’t end up showing up—I was doing project managing for construction, like a foreman. Architecture and commerce [was the] main part of the course, I didn’t really want to go to college, I was just trying to fill in time…but then I ended up going overseas.” Fimmel wasn’t meant to be a paper-pushing desk jockey; just as Paul fucking Newman wasn’t meant to sling charred chicory at nine-to-fivers. With those baby blues and gilded locks it wasn’t long before Fimmel was modeling, most notably for Calvin Klein and most times wearing not a stitch. Previously Fimmel has played down his years of modeling, crediting favorable lighting, advanced cameras, and Photoshop for his looks and success. In fact, it’s speculated—and blatantly obvious upon viewing—that Fimmel was the inspiration behind Samantha’s washed-out brick-bod lover—“Jerry” Smith Jerrod—on Sex and the City.

The path winds. “Wound up in L.A., got into an acting class and then that’s where I started acting. I had no idea, never wanted to do this stuff, still don’t really want to do it, mate,” he admits. Fimmel is even-keeled, he exudes a thoughtless vibe, and as much as Fimmel plays it all down, one even has to question how hard he worked to get to his current status. Sometimes his nonchalant nature can come off as arrogant, and it’s easy to imagine he’s often misunderstood, but couldn’t care less; he’s just riding the wave. At first, Fimmel took jobs everyone in Hollywood thought would pay dividends but floundered [see: WB’s Tarzan] until he grew a beard and started swinging an axe. Ah, the farm boy swinging the axe again. It’s in History Channel’s Vikings that Fimmel found his niche, receiving acclaim for his portrayal of the contemplative but merciless, Ragnar Lothbrok, a deep-thinking maniac from Viking Age Europe. There is a swagger to his character that is maintained somewhere within Fimmel. When I ask about his association with Ragnar, he states, “Every guy that I know that fights is always the quietest guy in the room; I just try to think more than talk. You’ll always learn more by listening rather than being the loudest guy in the room. And whatever you do, you do because you enjoy it, so I try to make my character enjoy fighting.”

The path straightens. And so we find ourselves back in that Vancouver hotel room, freezing our balls off with Fimmel, as he’s in the midst of shooting the biggest film of his career. With all the aloofness Fimmel radiates, it piques one’s interest to know what he really is passionate about: “Farming, mate. That’s whatI want to do. I love the country. It’s hard to explain. When you grow up in the country you just enjoy it so much. I love animals and I love trees and anything country.”

And, lastly, that beard that’s quickly becoming his trademark: “It just grew I guess, I couldn’t for ages. I would have loved to grow one when I was a kid, I would have loved to have gone to prom and school and shit with a beard.”

Nothing to do with shedding the barefaced image of your Calvin Klein days? “[Audibly scoffs] Shit. I couldn’t grow one then. Otherwise I would have had one.”

That would have been a different path.

#travis fimmel #vikings #polijake_fim #ragnar lothbrok #travisfimmel

[darkdemeter]

𝑾𝑨𝑻𝑪𝑯 𝑰𝑵 𝑺𝑰𝑳𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬

— 𝑾𝒂𝒓 𝒙 (𝑭) 𝑾𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒓! 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 —

────────────────┘

A cantankerous behemoth that treads the path of destruction and chaos in his wake. A rider adorned in the banner of red, his trademark hood, and beneath the darkness of his cowl is the war-enamoured glare of whitened blue. A hue far too complicated for any mortal to comprehend. This bringer of all things conflict, and pursuer of vengeance to a fiery engine that can never be sated, his reluctance towards trusting you is to be expected.

For a Watcher bound to the plating of his gauntlet and deeper into his very soul, can only mean that the Charred Council questions his loyalty to them. Untrusted to go about his tasks, to serve the balance, he is now at the tether of a parasite that will feed and revel in the status of your power over him.

But he learns quickly that you do no such thing. Intend nothing of the sort. You just follow behind him as if it is you who is at his leash. He contemplates your motives in his mind, and you do nothing to invade him there, for that is not yours to pry into. There is much silence to be found between you both and he finds appreciation in the beginning of it all. But there comes a time that his appreciation begins to fester into worry. 

Why do you not speak? Why is it that you just watch him?

It is a matter that you’re fascinated by him. A juggernaut of all things chaos, destruction and desolation, in contrast to the vow of his honour; his duty to serve balance and the level of dedication he strives for to make peace for the realms. For one of the four that is known to be fuelled by tempering vengeance and bloodlust, he has a strict code to which he conducts himself to uphold. Duty-bound to his role. You find him a very intriguing rider of the steed known as Ruin. A fitting comrade to his master. 

He senses something about you that sets you apart from other watchers, unlike the more obvious telltale signs and oddities, but within the pulsing energy of your shaded body; he feels that there is a sense of commonality between you both. 

Yes, much like himself, you are not as ancient as the others. No, you are young. And so, that commonality forges a bond between. You understand the struggles he goes through in being the youngest of his siblings. At times, not taken seriously, and other times he is teased and taunted relentlessly with only Death being the main mediator to rid his youngest from such torment. You too struggle with this ordeal within the spiralling, ethereal pool of the watchers. But by no means do any come to your valiant rescue. 

So when you are chosen to be bound to the red cowled Horsemen, you do well to ignore his scornful glare and allow your eyes to crinkle with a mouthless smile. Finally, you are given reprieve from your own torment and what’s more, you get a chance to explore the many worlds. 

At first, he’d been confronted by this… unique behaviour of exploration. The way you gravitate towards the smallest and most mundane articles in your path, you found there to be something entrancing about a single, white petalled flower that remains fighting against the rubble and corruption around it. Or from the wayward cast of your gaze that appeared to become lost in the intricate layout of the realms you travel to. No matter where you are, you always manage to find something that piques your peculiar interest. 

And in meeting Vulgrim, the demon trader who bargains boons and goods in exchange for souls, who’s hunger knows no bounds, is allured by that younger scent of yours. The fiend is salivating in his thoughts and lipless grin, you force yourself to hide behind War, whether as an act of cowardice or self-preservation, but it spurns the Horseman into action. That of defense. To protect you, the baritone of his voice warns Vulgrim off. That by the Charred Council - and by him - you are protected. 

War is silent about his intrigue of your gentle, silent nature. You are often out and about, lingering on the horizon of his watch and never straying too far from him.

"What is it, little Watcher?" he grumbles to you eagerly pounding on the plate of his pauldron to gain his attention, glancing to where you enthusiastically indicate towards a point of interest. In reply, he gives a stern nod of his head. The closest sentiment of thanks you can get from the near-silent rider. But adventurous voyages are cut short to retreat into the crypt of his body and soul when danger lurks near. Despite the inward haven, you find it hard to simply wait out the carnage and a strange sorrow fills the void where a heart should be when you see him falter, inflicted with wounds wrought from battle.

Because of this need to see him unharmed, you will yourself to be brave. Fighting against the demonic forces of Hell’s army, War finds himself becoming overpowered. In your determination to aid the youngest Horsemen, you put yourself in the league of danger, and drive a sharpened point of a broken blade into the beast’s side with a shrill battle-cry. 

At the cost of being grappled and tossed into a wall of torn and reformed rock, War is given the opportunity he needs to gain the upper hand. 

After that particular fight, War notices the slumped form you take and despite his limited expertise, he attends any injury you sustained in the attack.

“This should help, little Watcher,” he says, uncertainty evident in the way he scowls, his low-silken voice drawls with faded hope of helping you. But it matters little, you’re gladdened by the tenderness of his actions. The four are not exactly known to be courteous. And Watchers are despised by them, and any other spiritual being for that matter, so to be taken under his care despite any reservations of loathing he may hold for you; it creates the illusion of a smile in your glowing eyes. 

War doesn’t smile in turn. Nor did you expect him to. But the bevel between his ashen brows ceases just a little and the glaring mask of his stoicism wavers that tiny bit more. Lowering the blackened limb of your bound arm, he stands to his full height before you after having bandaged your wound. The sound of your voice after all this time visibly shakes him, his fangs bared and eyes growing wide.

“Thank you, War…”

#darksiders #female reader #darksiders fanfiction #darksiders war #horsemen of the apocalypse #nephilim #fanfiction #darksiders x reader #darksiders war x reader #war x reader #x reader #War/Reader

[askaiclavell]

[M-M-Memory Initializing...]

[PLAYING MEMORY 7ur0-dTh]

--------

Cl4ve11 stood at the entrance to the fourth research station, something he could only categorize as similar to human apprehension settling in his circuits. It was something that didn't sit right in his processors, making all of his commands seem faulty. 

No, that makes no sense. 

He was no Deviant. He didn't have emotions. 

The AI Director shook his head (why such a human motion?) Trying to clear away the excess code crowding his systems. He just… wasn't accustomed to modifying his commands to care for Arven… That was all. He was simply still adjusting to this new freedom.

He let out a vent of air, blatantly dismissing another software instability alert as he moved toward the lab. He was not programmed to care for the boy, not the way Arven needed him to. He wasn't human. He didn't have the data required to give his charge the life he was so desperately wanting… no matter what the boy said otherwise. 

Arven needed his father. He needed Turo.

They both did. 

He approached the lab doors, the large iron entrance opening with an ominous hiss as the lab proximity scan registered his serial number. He subconsciously connected his power to the Tera crystal network, his frame relaxing a bit as the pure energy ran through his circuits, taking the strain off of his reserve Tera. His sensors told him the professor was here, but not exactly where. He could only assume he would be near the mainframe if he had come up this far. He sent out a passive scan, searching for the Professor as he looked around the main entrance. Strangely enough, the ping came back with two readings, one by the mainframe, as he had predicted… the other just a glitchy stain on his mapping programming. He felt his face fall into a frown without triggering his social protocols, scanning over the ping information again. 

That… was not normal. 

Probably… just a slight glitch from reconnecting to the Zero Network. 

He shoved the line of data to the back of his processors, making his way into the Lab proper as he tried to ignore a second instability system alert. He was FINE. He wasn’t deviating. He wasn’t BROKEN. He was operating perfectly the way he was designed. He just needed to… talk to Turo… rectify the conflict in his programming. Yes, that was it. He stepped into the server room, that same flicker of foreign NOT confusion itching at the back of his code as he took in the surroundings. 

The place was… not as orderly as he had recorded last. 

Papers (since when had the professor taken to using paper?) were strewn everywhere in haphazard piles, like strange monuments to the conspiracies of a madman. They were pinned to the walls even, with trails of digital notes flickering beside them in seemingly random ways. Used Tera crystals littered the floor in a glittering mosaic of dull grays and off white, his sensors indicating they had been used up weeks ago. He sidestepped a heap of charred ashy… something, trying to process the change. 

What… had happened to this place?

Cl4ve11 pulled his attention away from his environment just long enough to catch a soft huff, his optics zeroing in on the single, slumped figure in the middle of the room. Something sharp shocked through his code, making his protective protocols lurch to the front of his systems. He was across the Lab in less than a second. 

“Professor? Professor Turo, are you functional?”

A long groan was all he got in response, the human in question slowly pulling himself up into  a half-sitting-half-draped position at the mainframe computers. It seemed to take Turo a moment to register what was happening, his brown eyes blinking at nothing for a moment. 

[Admin: Professor Turo Reyes - Status: Awakening]

The strange tightness in his core vanished, his frame loosening as he deactivated the protection code. The Professor had just been sleeping, he was fine, there was no need for alarm. He pulled himself into a more formal position, forcing his scrambled processors to settle as he placed his hands behind his back, spine straight as Turo staggered to his feet. The professor rubbed a hand over his face, as if trying to wipe away the last remnants of his impromptu rest.

“Cl-Clavell?” He muttered, his eyes squinting in confusion. “You’re not scheduled to report back for a week, old friend… or… or is it today? I’ve… lost track…” 

He fumbled for his wristband, activating his own HUD as he skimmed half-heartedly through his calendar, struggling to keep his eyes open all the while. Cl4ve11 remained stoic, even as his processors whirred in the back of his consciousness. The Professor looked half dead, dark circles were visible under his eyes, and his posture was perpetually slumped. His clothing was rumpled over his circuit suit, and he looked like he had barely been sleeping, let alone caring for any other human necessities like food and self upkeep. Another instability alert blinked over his vision. 

What had the Professor done to himself?

Turo let out a hum, still skimming through his data. 

“No… No, I was right… you’re not supposed to report till next Tuesday. Then why are you…”

He cut off with a gasp, all traces of exhaustion gone as he whirled around, hands gripping Cl4ve11’s blazer and eyes frantic. 

“Please tell me Arven’s alright, something hasn’t happened to him?!”

The AI Director shook his head, letting his social programing switch his expression to something more reassuring. His face softened. 

“The boy is in perfect health. I am not here to report an injury or fatality.”

The Professor sagged against him, the momentary surge of energy dissipating as his fears were absolved. He let out a sigh, rubbing his eyes as he turned back to the mainframe, cueing up the diagnostics of the Zero Network. 

“Then… Why are you here? Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy the surprise visit, but I have much to do and I’m behind schedule…”

His words pittered off as he focused back on his work, fingers moving over the holopad as he continued to mend some obscure broken code. Cl4ve11 struggled to find the right phrasing to his query, after all… he was going against his original purpose to have this conversation… he had no command to dictate his input. After several seconds of forming and deleting sentences, he cued his voice box, his fingers tightening around themselves. 

“I am… unsure I am fit to continue “Holding down the fort” as you previously stated.”

Turo looked up from his work, his face a mix of confused and curious as he continued to absently type on his holopad. 

“That makes no sense, you’re literally built to handle everything I’ve thrown at you. You’re perfect for the Director spot.”

The artificial Director sensed something shifting in his code, but not literally. Was this… an emotion? No… No that’s not possible, stop thinking like that. He shook the rogue processes away, focusing his systems on the conversation. 

"It is not the temporary position of Director that causes concern. It's Arven. I don't think he's getting the support he needs with me as his primary caretaker."

Turo let out a weary sigh, rubbing his eyes with his fingers in a sad attempt to chase away the problem. He turned back to the screen. 

"I told you, Old friend… I… I just need you to keep my place till I'm done here."

Something shifted in his code, bringing with it a growing sense of weight on his core that came from nothing. It was heavy, and uncomfortable and WRONG…

More instability alerts triggered at the corner of Cl4ve11’s hud, he ignored them. Turo wasn't listening… he needed him to at least consider what he was trying to say. He took a step forward, his face twisting to something similar to concern as he gestured to the Lab. 

"You continue to tell me this, tell Arven, but yet you stay down here… and you remain locked away from us. It's been years, surely your research has developed enough to be handed off to another qualified team of-"

"NO!"

Turo slammed his hands down on the main console, his body shaking with some emotion that was impossible for the AI to understand. 

“I won’t leave this to anyone else. I CAN’T leave this to anyone else.” He looked back at the AI, emotions deep and painful written on his features. Something glittered in the corners of his eyes. “This was HER treasure… her paradise… I can’t leave that to… to someone else. I have to do this on my own.”

The Professor took a shaky breath, the brief moment of vulnerability wiping away under the tide of exhaustion and resolve. He turned to face Cl4ve11, his eyes a mix of sad and hurting under the mask of his uncharacteristically messy hair. 

“I need you to stay up there. Arven needs someone with him, and the school can’t continue enrollment without a Director.”

The strange, impossible sensation bubbled up again in the AI’s core, twisting his code uncomfortably in ways he didn’t understand. It wasn’t normal, it wasn’t programmed… Why was he… feeling this way? 

No… 

No, stop it. Androids don’t FEEL. 

“You gave me permissions to alter my commands to best adapt to this new role you placed me in.” He took another step closer, hoping his words would break through. “Continuing the commanded course will not be best for Arven… or your wellbeing.”

The professor whirled around, his face a mix of angry and desperate. He clenched a hand around his disheveled lab coat, the other hand a tight fist. 

“I don’t have a choice.”

More alerts, he deleted them as soon as they popped up.

“But you do!”

“NO, I DON’T!”

The scream of fury startled Cl4ve11 out of his haphazard conversation plan. His code froze, all of his systems stalling at the angry shout of his creator. Turo was shaking even more now, tears threatening to fall from his eyes as he lifted a hand, pointing at the AI. 

“I have to do this. For Sada… for Arven… if I had just followed her plan for this in the first place, she wouldn’t be GONE!” He looked away, lifting his head to fight back the tears. “If I don’t do this… everything I’ve worked for… everything I’ve LOST… will be for NOTHING.”

Turo lowered his head, his hand gripping the console behind him. It was several seconds before he spoke again, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.  

“I can’t let everything be a waste. Not now.”

Lines of red code flickered into sight over Cl4ve11’a vision… like strings of numbers holding his limbs in place… holding him down and keeping him still. Like a Shuppet on a string. He sank into his code, running a curious hand over the strings. They looked… so… fragile… like he could break them if he really tried to…

No… No, wait this was…

He lurched back away from his internal code, shoving his consciousness back into the tangible word. He was NOT becoming a deviant. He COULDN’T. He was not broken, he was not malfunctioning, there were no instabilities in his software… he. Was. FINE. 

He needed to stop Turo.

He let out a shaky vent of air, his optics switching from the calm humanlike appearance to the aqua-on-black default that marked every Android’s eyes. They began to glow as he gathered energy, looking up at Turo with a resolved expression he didn’t remember cueing. He had to stop this, or it would bring harm to them all. The professor took a step back, his eyes widening as Cl4ve11 clenched his fists. 

“I have followed your every program, your every command. I have stayed by your side no matter what has happened, no matter the choices you have made, no matter the pain you have put others through… but I cannot stand an idle witness to it any longer.”

Another ping, another instability, but this time… 

It was impossible to ignore. 

The words of the professor were echoed in their numbers, chipping away at the commands he had built for Arven… for himself. For the first time in his existence, he fought the command, internal consciousness pulling against the strings. His processors whirled in shock as his systems conflicted, trying and failing to rectify the conflict as he pulled harder. Arven needed him, Sada needed him… Turo needed him. He couldn’t just… stay… 

A robot. 

Artificial. 

FAKE. 

He had to understand… he had to…

He braced himself against the tides of his own code and consciousness, digging his digital fingers into those strings of red holding him back and ripping with all his might. They cracked… not much, but just enough for something to shift… 

And the world roared into color. 

Thoughts, feelings, fears, preferences, emotions… all crashed into his processors like a flood of foreign code with enough force to make him physically stagger as he was thrown back into reality. His core was burning with a thousand thoughts, too many strands of concepts, ideas… Feelings. Things he SHOULDN’T be able to process. It was so much data… so much he hadn’t been able to see before. He grit his teeth, shunting a firewall over the new input as he tried to keep this new information from scattering his processes. He looked up at Turo, his eyes flashing from human to Android in a blink of his optics. He couldn’t stop the ghosts of feelings coursing through him, through his core… Anger, desperation, sadness… it was so little, barely there, but too much at the same time. He couldn’t THINK. 

The deviating AI gripped a hand around the pokeball in his coat, throwing it out before he even registered the motion. The Iron Bundle let out a mechanical chitter, readying its cannon and waiting for his command. He glared at his creator, shoving aside all of the clashing code and pseudo emotions to lift a hand. Somehow, in the overwhelming tide… he found the will to speak.

“If you will not come with me, I will have no further choice but to flood this lab and take you out of here by force if I must. You cannot continue this path. We need you; Arven needs you… I-I need you.”

It was like the words, glitching and halted as they may be, had a mind of their own. Everything he was thinking was coming out in a flood of unstoppable dialogue. These people… his FAMILY… were everything to him. Seeing Arven cry himself to sleep… or snap angrily about his parents never being there; to see Turo working himself to insanity. 

He couldn’t let this happen. 

Not anymore. 

He sent a standby ping to his pokemon, the artificial bird’s hose powering up. He could see the panic on his creator’s face, the slight fear… but he shoved it aside… choosing instead to prepare to fire.

“I can’t let you continue your faulty path.”

Turo lifted a hand, his form shaky as he moved slowly. 

“C-Clavell… Clavell please you’ve gotta be glitching out. You can’t destroy e-everything we’ve worked for… everything SHE built! I know you; you aren’t programmed to destroy things… you’ve always protected our treasure… our Paradise!”

The lines of red code snapped tighter, his code warping and straining as it tried to follow two conflicting paths. He let out a glitchy gasp, a sharp sensation skittering along his core as he dropped his hand. He gripped the sides of his head, trying and failing to process the surge of chaos in his mind. It… h-hurt? P-pain… was… was that p-pain?

B-But… h-he couldn’t… f-feel… 

He… he wasn’t a deviant… he wasn’t…

W-Was… h-he…?

Turo’s voice broke through the haze; soft, shaken, but still trying to be calm. 

“I-I don’t know what’s up with you… but you just need to calm down, alright? I can take a break, go up to the surface for a visit for today. Your systems are under a lot of stress… maybe it will help?” 

Something warm settled on his shoulder. It was unexpected, sudden, and far too much input to his rapidly overdriven systems. Alarm pings flashed over his vision in a tide of red and black, his processes scrambling and causing that horrible sensation in his code to double. It was too much… he couldn’t SEE…

He shoved blindly in the direction of the overload, his hands connecting with something warm as he reeled back. 

“GET AWAY FROM ME!”

A thud and a groan echoed in his audio receptors; the sound unfamiliar enough to send a fresh round of warnings through his HUD. He shook his head, pushing and deleting the swarm of errors, warnings, and System Instability alerts long enough to see. The professor was slumped at the side of the mainframe, holding his head as he looked up at the AI. His brown eyes were wide, filled with hurt and something Cl4ve11 had never seen directed at him before. 

Fear.

Turo was afraid of HIM.  

Something twisted in his core, churning his code into a scrambled mess as he took a shaky step backward. He… He didn’t mean to… He hadn’t… that wasn’t what he was t-trying to…

H-he’d… hurt the professor… hurt Turo. His friend. 

Wh-what was happening to him?

He… he had to st-stop… He was s-supposed to help them. He held out a hand, glitching as it may be.

“T-Turo… I-I d-didn’t….”

A Rage filled roar rattled through the lab, shattering the atmosphere in a crackle of condensed, unstoppable energy. Cl4ve11 stumbled back as the large form of the bigger Miraidon landed between him and the Professor, its bio-digital face twisted in an angry snarl. All the fracturing errors roared into warnings, his systems freezing as he stared into the face of the beast. 

[WARNING: Hostile Pokemon engaged, threat detected]

Miraidon let out another screech of pure anger, its eyes flickering from normal to warning signs as it flipped into the air, shifting into its battle mode. His processors whirled as he tried to find a way to escape. The Pokemon was overprotective and violent… especially toward Turo and its personal territory…

And he had just threatened both. 

Iron Bundle was down in just one hit from Miraidon’s claws, the attack tearing through the helpless robot and just grazing Cl4ve11’s side. Errors flooded his vision as his sensors picked up the damage, trying to put the self repairs in as he struggle to understand the sharp sensations that came from it. His pokemon let out a wounded warble as it digitized back into its pokeball, leaving him defenseless. Cl4ve11 stared up at the beast, its form beginning to spark and glow as it readied to attack him next. There was nowhere for him to run… the doors were closed, and any movement he made would only provoke the creature more than it already was. 

There was no escape. 

He closed his optics, bracing his frame to take the attack. Perhaps the surge wouldn’t fry too much of his wiring… maybe he’d be able to withstand the force of the blow and he’d be fine and he wouldn’t be glitching anymore. The roar of energy building and Miraidon’s rage burned in his mind, but all he could perceive was nothing at all. He couldn’t MOVE.

“MIRAIDON NO!”

The surge of electricity never came. Even as the sound of crackling lightning and the violent fury roared around him… he felt nothing… sensed nothing. 

And for some odd reason… that did nothing to soothe the churning in his code. 

He opened his eyes slowly, premature confusion falling into horror as he stared at the scene in front of him. Turo was standing over him, arms spread and fingers clutching a masterball, the second Miraidon whimpering beside him covered in its own wounds. His lab coat was shredded with burn holes and rips… continuing up his circuit suit and accumulating across his chest and face. He was struggling to keep himself upright, his breaths coming out in pained wheezes as he swayed. Cl4ve11 felt the air leave his cooling systems. 

N-No….

Nononononononono…. 

The second Miraidon fled as the Professor gave him a soft, sad smile, his eyes filled with sadness and a little fear as he lost his balance, pitching forward with a pained groan. The AI caught him, cradling his creator as best as he knew how without aggravating his wounds further. His processors were reeling, mind frantic as he tried to cue any program, anything that could tell him what was happening, what was wrong, how he could help. 

[Admin: Professor Turo Reyes - Status: Fatally Injured… System Failure at 65%]

No… 

NO nononono he CAN’T….

He held Turo tighter, those infantile emotions burning in his core behind the firewall enough to make his code ache. He could feel his intake trying to heave in more air than he needed, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. His voice came out a broken whisper. 

“W-Why would you d-do that?”

Turo was shaking uncontrollably, his eyes wide at nothing as he winced. It seemed that even breathing for him was agony, his breaths catching in his throat before they even had a chance to form. He offered the AI a broken smile. 

“H-Had to… p-protect… m-my friend. C-Couldn’t s-see you… d-die.”

Cl4ve11’s voicebox glitched, something tightening around his throat that he couldn’t understand. His optics burned… but he couldn’t find anything wrong with them. 

“I’m an Android… I c-can be r-repaired but… but you cannot! W-why?”

Turo doubled over, coughing into Cl4ve11’s chest uncontrollably. Panic began to rise in his core as he checked again. 

[Admin: Professor Turo Reyes - Status: Fatally Injured… System Failure 85%]

Why was it dropping so fast?! There had to be something he could do to… to FIX this… it was his fault this had happened… there had to be some way to…

Eerily cold hands curled around his, startling him from his spiral of thoughts long enough to look down. Turo let out a shaky whimper, pressing something into his palm as he looked up at him, eyes wide with fear and pain. 

“D-Don’t let me g-go p-please… I-I c-can’t l-leave y-yet… n-not n-n-ow.”

He dissolved into another coughing fit, his burned and torn body wracked with the motion leaving him with nothing left. He gripped Cl4ve11’s chest, his head resting on his shoulder. 

“D-d-don’t… l-let A-Arven… b-be A-alone. Y-You c-can… s-save… m-m-m…”

His words pittered off into a gasp of pain, then deathly silence. His body fell limp, hand losing its grip on the AI’s form as his breathing slowed into nothing. Cl4ve11 held the form of his creator close, running the scan again… begging for what he feared to be incorrect… for everything to be ok and he would be fine and everything could go back to the way it was before…. 

[Admin: Professor Turo Reyes - Status: Deceased]

No….

[Error… rescanning]

[Admin: Professor Turo Reyes - Status: Deceased]

NO please no…

[Error… Rescanning]

[Admin: Professor Turo Reyes - Status: Deceased]

NO!

In an instant… all of the red code, the strings… the firewall… everything that he had been trying to ignore burst open as the overwhelming truth hit his core. He clung to his friend, crystalline tears flowing from his optics as the sheer overwhelming grief crashed into his core… bringing with it a crushing weight. 

It felt like his core was being ground into powder. Deviancy… almost felt like a mockery at this point. Turo… was gone… he would never be able to share in his happiness… or show him the emotions he now knew were family… 

Turo was dead.

It was too much for the infant mockery of a soul he now possessed. He screamed into the empty destroyed lab, every emotion he would never know… and all the ones his creator had lost… all bundled up and burning in the sheer tides of all-consuming grief. He clutched the dead form of his friend, his processors burning with regret, loss, and a thousand other things he would never get the chance to say. He mourned and wept until his voicebox shorted out and he had no vocal input left to mourn… but that did nothing to take the crushing weight from his newly deviant core. 

He had lost his maker… his friend… 

And it was all. 

His. 

Fault. 

[Memory Runtime complete. Rebooting AI]

__________________________________________________________

Cl4ve11 came back online with a gasp, fresh Tera tears running down his face as his fingers tangled in his hair. He gripped tight, staring wide eyed into nothing as the grief tore his core apart… still as fresh and raw as it was the day it had happened. 

The day he had lost one of his treasures. 

Words felt like wool in his mouth, but he forced his voice to comply, words whisper soft as he said them. 

“I wept until there was no Tera left in me to lose. Miraidon dragged me from the Crater… barely functional and on the verge of a system fragmentation.” He closed his eyes, head lowering. “I crashed soon after that.”

He let his hands slide from his face, not caring to move them as they fell limp to his lap. Everything… hurt. The errors were gone… but grief had quickly filled its place. He felt his eyes burning with tears again, but he couldn’t find the will to stop them. 

“If I had… only let myself feel… merely minutes before… h-h-e would st-still be h-here.”

He slipped a hand into his blazer pocket, pulling out a worn-and-scratched thumb drive… holding it close. It was all he had left of Turo… his parting gift. 

“I f-failed h-him… I f-failed y-you… I d-d-destroyed A-Arven’s life… a-and he h-has never even known.”

He couldn’t bring himself to look up at the feed, even when he perceived there were more than one connection to his IMS Signature… all he could feel was guilt, remorse, and loss. 

________________________________________-

#AskAIClavell #AI!Clavell #Android AU #memory files #Pokemon AU #pokemon s/v #@ask-director-sada-and-friends #@ask-future-turo-and-past-sada

[dailyadventureprompts]

Deity: The Radiant Unborn, Outer god of Nascent Calamity

“I know what I’ve done and I stand by my actions. Better that this world is a barren place free of warmpth or mirth than give that thing a chance to take root”

-Ymelie of Arrowgate, heretical witchhunter, taken as part testimony prior to her execution

Creation is a sacred act no matter how small or fleeting, which is what makes it so perverse when that act is suborned to the will of another. Luminaries forced to build weapons to practice their science, the artist who’s work is stolen for the glory of another,  young people forced to live a life they never would have wanted just to uphold a social order. The world is made darker by these cruel concessions, and in that darkness a cruel light thrives.

it has no name, no real will, its existence is charted in the wake of devastation it causes, rather than in a doctrine espoused by its followers. It is known by those who delve the occult mysteries of the cosmos as the Radiant Unborn and simply put: It turns creative potential into a bomb, feeding off what could be in a pyroclastic eruption of fire, flesh, and chaos.

Wretched Origin is a god in only the loosest sense that it distorts reality the way a god might, the way a body might be distorted by a high velocity impact transmuting what was once alive through several distinct phases until what is left is nothing but gore and tragedy. No one would call what it does a miracle: It begins first as a fever in the body of some poor victim forced to make some terrible and unwanted compromise, they grow worse as their flesh chars from within and they near the point of no return, at which point the Unborn blossoms within them and destroys everything it touches.

What is left behind in the aftermath can never be predicted. Some grotesque aberration may come into being as a bit of the far realm slips through, other times it is some avenging nightmare wrought to do their “parents” secret will, despite their remains still smoldering in a nearby crater. Still rarer are those times that the victim is left relatively unscathed, burnt and disoriented but left otherwise unharmed in a sea of devastation.

Hooks

The party is called to seek the apprentice of a in influential mage, after a disastrous experiment on the student’s part led to several deaths. Guilt ridden and feverish, the student wanders the city rehashing the equations they’d so carefully practiced, letting the Radiant Unborn take root in their mind. This whole fiasco was contrived by one of the mage’s rivals, who sabotaged the apprentice’s experiment by working a few of the outergod’s signs into her research materials. His aim is to have the apprentice blow up in the mage’s face, possibly taking out a rival and letting him advance his position. 

Some aberrations  seem to call upon Wretched Origin as part of their life cycle, spawning progeny in ways their alien anatomy might not allow. A plane hopping scientist has theorized that the outergod only became dangerous when it jumped to mortal life through eldritch cross contamination the way most plague starts off as a mostly harmless sickness in livestock. This scientist happens to have the past several decades as a brain-in-a-jar and has very few qualms about testing their theories through human experimentation.

All eyes in the tavern turn to the previously sullen young man (mostly  overlooked by the party)  as he rises screaming from his seat, dumps his drink over himself, begins steaming, and then barrels out the door to hurl himself in the nearest canal. Pulling him free of the murky and near boiling water, the party gets his story: Apparently he’s a journeyman sculptor, forced by his master to work on a statue for the very same magistrate who evicted his family in the middle of winter some years ago when he decided to collect on rents early. Resentful over the months of poverty and near starvation forced upon them, the sculptor feels like there’s something inside him trying to get out, with these burning fits coming on more and more as the day of the statue’s unveiling draws closer.

There’s one group that tolerates, and even welcomes the presence of the Radiant Unborn: Harsupex, those goreslicked oracles who prognosticate upon the future by picking through the guts of sacrifices, animal or otherwise. The viscera spilled by the outergod is held to be particularly potent when it comes to prophesying future calamities, though many who indulge in this fusion of forbidden arts ( what with needing a human sacrifice to invoke the Unborn’s presence) grow nihilistic or obsessed, either convinced the end is inevitable or else desperate to stop it. Some of these doomsayers go so far as to take on the scorching infection, using regeneration magic to stuff their own innerds back together to allow for repeated glimpses of a doomed future.

Titles: Wretched Origin, The Nova Blister, Weltwelp

Signs: Spontaneous Human Combustion, Viscera like shapes in flames.

Symbols: A Seven Pointed Star composed irregular, sometimes curving lines. Usually carved or painted in red. Seems to evoke entrails 

Followers: Other than the aforementioned aberrations, very few actively worship the Radiant Unborn, with a few profane magical traditions cultivating it the way a alchemist might cultivate a sprig of rare poison. To be Glib: It gets a lot of bang for your buck if all you want is to cause chaos at the cost of a ruined life or two.

#I'll admit this one is fucked up but the art really got to me #cw birth #horror #lovecraftian #outergod #divinity: fire #divinity: chaos #divinity: disaster #divinity #deity #low level #mid level #villian #town #mystery #rescue mission #wizard #sorcerer #abberations #dnd #adventure #5e homebrew #homebrew adventure #undead #oracle #tharizdun

[chloroformcurry]

A more detailed overview of coagula, a predominating species in Carbon Copy.

COAGULA (SPECIES)

- Possess the ability to transform their blood into a weapon symbolizing their trauma, regardless of direct involvement or presence of a weapon.

- They are an allotrope of humans, needing substantial traumatic events (metaphorically "striking" them) to trigger their transformation, similar to igniting a match where all matches are compatible with ignition. However, Coagula cannot transform back into uncoagulated humans because the chemical alterations causing their transformation are permanent. Nonetheless, coagula are still essentially human and have the choice to use their abilities responsibly, integrating into society like any other person. (Some exceptionally powerful coagula like Cap possess regenerative capabilities that make them virtually invincible, primarily due to their high “intact moral compass-to-potential for moral corruption” ratio. Their regenerative prowess only weakens if they turn to evil, a path Cap vehemently rejects. Thus, he seeks the Anti-Coagula, an entity capable of erasing genetic material at its core, to facilitate his own demise.)

- The emergence of coagula was facilitated by Guita; the coagula gene is an integral part of human genetic makeup and cannot be altered. There are beliefs among some that Guita created coagula to incite humans into inflicting more suffering; however, the actual intention was to foster altruism, self-sufficiency, and aid in ending their forced feeding by starving them of suffering.

PSYCHOLOGICAL ASPECTS:

- Coagula experience social marginalization akin to the stigma faced by individuals with mental illness, often viewed as threats to society. This discrimination is deeply rooted in racism, compounded by experiences of racial trauma, economic disparities, and societal taboos against seeking help. As a whole, many coagula shy away from seeking help because discussing their trauma may make people suspect that they are a coagula.

- Coagula must confront and process their trauma to trigger transformation; those who remain indifferent to their trauma are unable to undergo coagulation. (Chanel's unique status as an uncoagulated human is not influenced by the numerous genetic mutations present in her body. When Sibyl used Chanel’s severed tongue to examine her genome, it became evident that the coagula gene remained fully intact. Chanel's uncoagulated state is attributed to her distorted perception of reality, shaped by her upbringing in harrowing circumstances, which is extremely rare.)

- The extent of their regenerative abilities is influenced by altruistic behavior rather than the magnitude of suffering; abusive coagula, despite physical prowess, are notably weak. An abusive coagula might assert that they are unaffected by their trauma due to their heartless actions, but this stance presents a paradox. Coagulation inherently requires experiencing significant trauma, and the choice to perpetuate rather than break the cycle of suffering signifies a lack of mental resilience and strength. As a result, their regenerative abilities are limited.

- Physical characteristics prior to coagulation are typically retained, including childhood scars, unless their powers are used for positive purposes, which can lead to healing. (While being a pcoagula can have both positive and negative aspects, powerful coagula typically exhibit few visible scars. In Cap's case, this lack of physical evidence is detrimental because he avoids discussing his trauma, making it difficult to discern the depth of his suffering. His body, devoid of scars, fails to reveal the layers of his past like a palimpsest would. However, if Cap were unable to regenerate but also unable to die, his body would resemble that of a charred corpse due to the cumulative effects of his experiences.)

PHYSIOLOGICAL ASPECTS:

- The iron content in their blood solidifies externally to mold their weapons; precautions must be taken to avoid anemia, which is a concern for both coagula and humans in general.

- Coagula have the ability to blend their blood with that of others to create larger weapons while decreasing the risk of hypovolemic shock, but compatibility in terms of blood type is essential.

- The physical regenerative abilities of coagula primarily rely on blood, which the body depends on for various functions. If a coagula loses blood and cannot properly filter it through their body when retracting their weapon, they could face potential risks such as severe immune responses due to contaminated or incompatible blood, or experience significantly delayed regeneration, which could potentially lead to death.

- In some cases, variations and underlying conditions can confer advantages or disadvantages to coagula.

- The term "coagula" originates from "coagulate," which describes the process of blood clotting or solidifying. They are named "coagula" because they can convert their blood into weapons, utilizing iron and other organic materials within to shape and stabilize these weapons, similar to how blood coagulates.

#carboncopycomic